The Pearl
by Jocelyn
Summary: Sequel to A Little Nudge Out of the Door. Legolas and Gimli return to Mirkwood after ROTK to face their people's fates in the War, their kins' reactions to their friendship, and a long chain of past events, honors, and wrongs come full circle. COMPLETE!
1. A Tree Falls in a Forest

_**Author's Notes:**_ _Well, my dear readers, it has been more than four years since _A Little Nudge Out of the Door, (_my "Legolas, The Early Years" fic), was completed, and back then, I promised you a sequel. I fear that three grueling years of law school and a further grueling year of the Bar Exam slowed down a lot of my writing plans, and put some projects on hold altogether. But, at long last, I am now a fully-fledged lawyer, and for the first time in…well, in my life…I am free to devote my non-working hours to whatever I see fit. Took awhile to get my muse going again, but this story burst back to life after I watched the entire Extended Lord of the Rings Movie Trilogy for the first time last weekend. It is complete, so I can promise you regular updates. _

_**Canon Notes: **_A Little Nudge Out of the Door _is not required reading, but certainly recommended. This story takes place immediately after the conclusion of _Return of the King. _I have set Legolas's age at about 1060 during the events of the Ring War. This story and _A Little Nudge _follow the theory that the elves of Middle Earth had not stopped reproducing entirely: their birth rate had only fallen far below the number of elves leaving for Valinor, so the population was declining. (Thus, I have Legolas younger than Arwen, and some elves younger than him.)_

_**Warnings: **__None. No romance or slash._

Original Character Guide

Berensul: eldest son of King Thranduil, crown prince and heir to the throne  
Eirien: Berensul's wife, formerly of Imladris, Eryn Lasgalen's most skilled healer  
Silivren: Berensul and Eirien's daughter, a novice warrior, about a century old  
Tathar, Candrochon, Merilin: childhood friends of Legolas who trained with him (if you haven't read _Nudge, _read up through Chapter Nine to learn their background)  
Galithil: a warrioress of Eryn Lasgalen who fought beside Legolas  
Faron: a warrior of Imladris, Galithil's husband, who has also fought and traveled with Legolas

_Elvish_ _language translations are at the end of the chapter. Enjoy!_

**The Pearl**

**Chapter One: A Tree Falls in a Forest**

"I still have my misgivings about this venture, Elf," said Gimli as he and Legolas rode through Mirkwood's dark eaves on Arod's back. "How do I know that father of yours won't toss me into the dungeons the minute he sets eyes on me?"

The elf tossed his head, and Gimli suspected that if he had been able to see his face, Legolas would be rolling his eyes. "Because my father is a proud elf, Master Dwarf, and it would look rather silly for him to toss one of his sons into the dungeons along with the offensive dwarf." Legolas twisted in the saddle to peer at Gimli over his shoulder, a smile on his face but seriousness in his eyes. "For that is what would be required of any elf in this realm who would dare show you discourtesy."

Gimli stared, moved. He opened his mouth to stammer out some manner of thanks, but felt Legolas's body suddenly tense in front of him, and the elf turned sharply around. "What?" he asked.

Legolas pulled Arod to a stop. "Smoke. Strong from the north. Dol Guldur has fallen, but the realm of my father was assailed, they say. There is still fire there."

"You're sure it's not just smoldering?" asked the dwarf in alarm.

The telltale odors were not yet strong enough for Gimli's mortal sense of smell to pick up, but the elf shook his head. "Nay, something still burns. Tighten your grip, Gimli. We ride hard for home." Gimli barely had time to obey before the elf said, "_Noro_ _bell_, Arod," and the horse took off at a gallop.

It was not long before the acrid scent of smoke began prickling Gimli's nose as well. At first it was stale, smoke that had lingered in the air for many days. Then it grew stronger, and had that indefinable "hot" smell that warned Gimli that the fire from whence it had come still burned. Arod was beginning to falter, not liking the idea of riding _toward_ a forest fire, but Legolas, tense and quiet in front of Gimli, urged the horse ever faster. The elf's home was burning.

The trees of Mirkwood were different from the last time Gimli had seen them. While they were tall as ever, their great eaves darkening the forest floor, the oppressive shadow that had long hung over this wood was gone, and the blight that had darkened the limbs and the plants was receding. Late summer sunlight filtered down through the leaves, which seemed to be a brighter green than Gimli remembered.

But the smoke hung as a thick, acrid fog in the air, warning them that all was still not well in the realm of the wood elves. Gimli started when a spider not much smaller than Arod went scrambling past them on the ground, but the fell creature was in such a hurry it did not even seem to notice them. Legolas whipped out bow and arrow, aimed over his shoulder, and shot the thing dead without even slowing Arod's stride. "_Noro_, Arod!"

Gimli coughed against the elf's back, and heard Legolas coughing as well, but they rode ever closer. Finally, Arod stumbled to a stop and refused to go further, and Legolas sat back. "The fire burns near. It is contained." Gimli strained his ears, and thought he could hear the crackle of nearby flames. "Come, we must go the rest of the way on foot."

The two dismounted, coughing, covering their faces with their cloaks, and Legolas soaked a cloth from his water skin and wrapped it around Arod's face. "How are we to get through?" wheezed Gimli. "We can barely see our hands in front of our faces, let alone find the way to your father's halls."

"I hear the hiss of water on the flames," said the elf, breaking off into a fit of coughing. "Mayhap ere long we shall find a party of my father's scouts who will be able to guide us through. _Tolo_, Arod. Here," a hand came out of the stinging gray cloud and caught Gimli's shoulder. "Stay close!"

They walked slowly through trees and undergrowth that was gray under a thick coat of ash, guided by Legolas's superior senses, ever-unnerved by the ominous hiss and crackle of flames invisible in the dense smoke. Gimli felt relatively safe with the elf's assistance, given Legolas's elven senses as well as his familiarity with this forest, until he realized that Legolas was suffering far more from the smoke than he had thought. Blinking tearing eyes up at his friend at one point, he saw Legolas stagger, clutching his cloak to his face and coughing violently. "Legolas!"

Legolas sank to his knees in the dirty brush, so that his face was level with Gimli's. "For once, Master Dwarf—" _cough!_ "—I envy your lack of height."

Very well, if the elf wanted to make light of his difficulty, Gimli supposed he should oblige. "Well then, if you'd care to set aside that elven pride of yours, perhaps you'd stay out of the worst smoke if you crawl through the trees."

He was rewarded by a dry laugh, and Legolas sat for a few moments, leaning slightly against Gimli, to catch his breath. Gimli frowned and put an arm around the elf's shoulders. Legolas smiled, his face smudged ash. "Fear not, Gimli, I am well. This stench is overpowering." Tears were cutting tracks through the soot on both their faces, for the sting of the smoke in their eyes was terrible. Legolas blinked as he looked around, and dashed a hand across his face. "By the Valar, what a price our freedom has carried! We are not but a few miles from the elven king's halls. I pray the flames did not reach them."

"Let's hope for the best, eh, Elf? It's possible they had to let the fire come this far because they were concentrating their defenses on your settlements," said Gimli.

Legolas nodded. "It may well be so." He forced himself to his feet. "Come. Let us move on. We are nearly past the burning area, though now we shall see how much damage has been left behind it." With one arm around Arod's neck, and the other hand on Gimli's shoulder, he started off again.

At one point, Gimli could easily feel the heat just to the south of them, and spotted the occasional flicker of orange flames through the dense smoke. Legolas had turned his face entirely away from it, his eyes squeezed completely shut, but somehow still managed to lead them around trees and thorny bushes on a relatively unobstructed path through the undergrowth. Once or twice the elf seemed to try to gather breath to call out—no doubt seeking his kinsmen—but each time was hampered by dissolving into coughs.

Gimli kept a tight grip on the elf's arm, for it had now dawned on him that it was not merely the physical discomforts of inhaling too much smoke that ailed his friend. The fire consuming the trees of Mirkwood was tormenting the elf, who undoubtedly could hear the suffering of the living things falling victim to it. Gimli squeezed his friend's arm, trying to offer what comfort he could, and Legolas blinked his eyes open, smiling weakly at the dwarf for a few seconds before continuing on. "How much further, Master Elf?"

The undergrowth was gone. They were now walking upon black rubble, having only to avoid charred trunks of trees and the occasional falling, scorched limb. The wind was rising, perhaps heralding a summer storm, and serving to push the worst of the smoke away from them, but also bringing down more debris. Gimli lost his footing once and staggered against a small tree, whose trunk promptly snapped in half, its top half crashing to the ground, burnt all the way through. Legolas recoiled, then turned away.

"_Ai, Yavanna Kementári_," the elf murmured, resting his forehead against Arod's neck. Even to Gimli, who could not see himself ever being half so attached to trees and bushes, the sight around them was bleak. The shadow no longer hovered over Mirkwood, but the forest was black. There was not a green thing to be seen, but all was seared to death by a roaring blaze that still smoldered some paces away. To a wood elf who had spent all his life defending this place from the minions of Sauron, seeing this after all the horrors of the War of the Ring must be devastating.

He turned to the elf. "I am sorry, Legolas."

Legolas dashed the back of his hand across his face defiantly, his tears less a symptom of smoke now. "We will recover from this," he said hoarsely. "Sauron's reign here and anywhere is ended, this was but a last act of desperation, and we will endure where he did not. My people have recovered from fires before." But he sounded uncertain, so Gimli squeezed his arm again.

"Of course you will. Fires happen, orc-set or no. And now your woods will grow again without a shadow to spread blight and death, and no spiders building webs in the trees."

Legolas laughed weakly, "Have a care, Master Dwarf, you sound dangerously elvish."

"Fah! See if I ever try to cheer you up again!" That made them both laugh, which immediately turned to coughing, and they went on. "Take care; this wind will bring down more debris."

"I know. We are perhaps three miles from my father's halls. With luck we shall soon be out of the burn scar and…"

"Legolas?" Gimli frowned at him. The elf had stopped and was staring southward, completely still. Never a good sign. "What is it?"

"A storm comes, and with it more wind. We must move faster, Master Dwarf. These trees shall all soon be falling around us, and flinging charred limbs everywhere." Legolas seized Arod's mane and urged him sharply along, and Gimli hurried with them as the wind began to howl amid the ominous creaking of the dead trees. At last, the elf let go of Arod and urged, "_Noro_ _lim_, Arod! _Bedo_!" The horse took off. "We must run, Gimli!" He seized the dwarf by the arm and pulled him along.

It was not long before they were forced to dodge wildly around crashing tree limbs, snapped off trunks burned through and through. Gimli had not run so hard since they had been chasing the orcs that had taken Merry and Pippin. And then the Three Hunters had not had to contend with smoke and soot clogging their lungs. But now it hampered Legolas too, and the elf suddenly staggered to a stop, falling to his knees in a violent fit of coughing.

"Legolas! Elf!" Gimli grabbed his shoulders and pushed the cloak up over his face, but the cloth was too covered with soot itself to do any good. Gimli was, if anything, more used to such impediments, having spent most of his youth in coal mines. But Legolas was most definitely not designed for dealing with filthy air, and certainly not this close to his own home. "Don't breathe so deep! Listen to me, Elf!"

They scrambled frantically to avoid another falling limb. Legolas attempted twice to push him away, gesticulating at him to keep moving. Gimli just snorted and half-dragged the elf along. After a few more minutes, Legolas shook him off. "I am well," he said over a loud gust of wind, and started to get to his feet when there was a loud _crack_ just behind them.

Gimli froze. "_Move!"_ he heard the elf cry, and then strong arms seized him and sent him hurtling, fully airborne, for some yards before he tumbled to the ground with a shout of protest that was drowned out by an incredible crash.

Staggering to his feet, coughing in the cloud of ash that his fall had made, the dwarf looked around. The wind was still rising, and he could hear thunder in the distance. What a mess they would have when the rain came! The source of the crashing had been the fall of a very large tree, its uppermost limbs unburnt, but its lower trunk a great log of charcoal fallen across the ground. Gimli dusted himself off and looked around for Legolas. "Elf? Where are you?"

Probably on the other side of the tree. Gimli could hear coughing. Confound these elves and their weak lungs! A little dust and they practically swooned! Grumbling, he stomped through the ash and rubble around the fallen tree. Where by blessed Mahal had that idiot elf got to—he froze. Close to the tree, one half-broken branch still sported a tangle of some bramble with a few green leaves that had somehow escaped the flames. Amid them, Gimli could see a tangle of golden hair.

"Legolas?" he whispered, then broke out of his shock and scrambled to the indentation the tree trunk had made in the ash-covered ground. There he found Legolas, flat on his back and coughing, jaw clenched with pain, his arms straining against the tree that refused to shift.

The trunk had fallen across the elf's legs. "Gimli?" Legolas called.

"Legolas!" the dwarf rushed to him and tried to assist in moving the tree. "Are you hurt?"

The elf ceased his struggling, and Gimli helped raise his torso into a half-sitting position. He could feel Legolas trembling. "I think…broken."

Gimli winced and tried to look, but the trunk and the ash made it impossible to determine the extent of his friend's injuries. He looked at the elf's face, which was white as a sheet, and saw gray eyes large and glazed with pain. "Which leg, Master Elf?"

Swallowing thickly, Legolas replied, "Both."

"Curse the Valar," Gimli muttered, and went for his water skin. This would be highly unpleasant for his friend. "We shall have to do our best to free you, and then if I am unable to summon help, I fear your return to your father's halls shall be less than dignified."

Legolas mumbled an acknowledgment, which alarmed Gimli still more. The elf should have been mortified, but he barely seemed to care. Gimli brought the skin back and helped his friend into a sitting position again. "Drink." By Mahal's hammer, Legolas was shaking hard! Gimli checked the elf's pulse and breathing, looking at his glassy eyes, and muttered every oath he knew. His friend was going into shock. "Legolas, do not swoon on me! I cannot do this without you, Elf! Look at me, Legolas!"

"Here," said the elf breathily, blinking at Gimli in an obvious effort to stay focused.

"Legolas, I am going to attempt to shift that trunk. When I tell you, you must try to pull yourself from under it," said Gimli. "Do you understand?"

To his relief, shock had not robbed Legolas of all his faculties yet, and the elf nodded. Gimli carefully released him, and Legolas managed to stay in the same position, braced upright on his arms. When Gimli went to the tree, the elf grunted, "Ready."

"Right. On my signal!" the dwarf found a firm grip on the trunk. He dared not roll it off, though that might have been easier, lest he crush the elf's lower legs completely. If he could just hold it up long enough for Legolas to pull himself clear… "Ready? Ready? _Now!"_

Straining with all his might, he dragged the trunk up. Almost at once, Legolas cried out in agony at the sudden loss of pressure, but the elf did attempt to drag himself back. Gimli swore; the elf wasn't moving fast enough, and he could hold this damned thing much longer. "Hurry, Elf!"

As if the situation were not tense enough, the wind continued throwing debris at them, and the smell of rain was growing stronger. Legolas inched backward, gasping for breath and groaning in pain. Gimli grunted, his arms and back screaming, but to lower the trunk again would deal his friend another, perhaps even more grievous hurt. He concentrated on watching the progress of the elf's legs out from under the limb, and keeping an eye on his friend's face, streaked with soot and clenched with effort. But then fortune dealt them another cruel turn. Legolas glanced up, and cried out, "Gimli!"

Before the dwarf could react, he felt a terrible blow directly in the side of his head—thankfully, his helm took the worst of it—that sent him tumbling, helplessly dropping the trunk. He hit the ground in time to hear Legolas's scream of agony as he landed face-first in the dirt.

When his ears ceased their ringing and the world stopped spinning, Gimli stumbled upright, horrified. "Legolas!" He kicked aside the huge branch that had struck him and got to his feet. "Legolas!"

No answer. "_Legolas!"_

Gimli scrambled over to where his friend lay, and found him still conscious, but whiter than ever and moaning in pain, shaking violently. There was no way the elf would be able to pull himself free now. Despairing, Gimli knelt and lifted the elf's torso into his arms. Legolas was limp and did not seem to notice. "Hold on, Elf. I'll get you out of this."

How? In anguish, Gimli searched for anything, any object, a large rock or even his axe, that could wedge the tree enough to free his friend, but found nothing that would serve. He pillowed the elf's cloak beneath his head and used his own to cover Legolas against the shock, and sat down next to him in frustration. Legolas was still conscious, but only barely so. "_Im_ _mas_," Legolas mumbled. Gimli grimaced and felt his forehead. No fever. Yet.

"Don't worry, Legolas. I am with you, my friend. _Mellon nin_," Gimli amended it for the elf's sake.

"Tathar?" Legolas asked. Gimli could not understand, but knew he either had to find a way to get the elf out from under that tree or—and the thought made his heart twist with anguish—leave Legolas and go in search of the elven king's folk to procure aid. That option seemed horrifically dangerous. His friend would be defenseless. What if orcs or spiders, driven out by the fire, happened upon him? Would Gimli be able to find elves, and, more important, convince them to come for Legolas? What if they did not believe him? Legolas shifted and moaned. Gimli tightened his grip. "Tathar? _Le ennas?_"

"I have to go and find help, Legolas," Gimli told him quietly, not caring that the elf probably couldn't hear. "I shall be back very soon. You have my word."

Legolas murmured something else in his native tongue, and Gimli gently eased him back onto the cloak, then pulled fallen branches up close, trying to conceal his friend as best he could and also provide some shelter from the approaching storm. Rising, he ducked more debris in the wind and started running. The wind was rising, and Gimli was certain that the sky would open up at any minute. Were there likely to be any fell beasts about now? So close to the elven king's halls? Gimli knew the direction, and Legolas had said they were but two or three miles away. Surely the inhabitants would have scouts about.

The thought of Legolas, hidden in the scant shelter of dead branches, pinned beneath the tree, in shock and delirious, led Gimli to do what he would never have risked for anyone else. Still running, he began to shout for help.

He ran on, calling out, "Ho! Elves of Mirkwood! Your aid is needed! Is anyone there?!"

Never had Gimli, son of Glóin been so relieved to see an arrow slam into a nearby trunk. He stopped, and waited, breathing heavily and coughing on the lingering smoke. A tall, dark-haired elf came out of the shadows, an arrow strung and pointed at Gimli's heart. "You stray close to the elven king's halls uninvited, Dwarf of Erebor."

Gimli did not even notice the arrow, but pointed frantically back the way he had come. "One of your kinsmen is wounded, Master Elf. He is Legolas, son of your king!"

The bow fell at once. "_Toltho_ _hervess nin_!" the elf cried to no one Gimli could see, but then a second elf burst from behind a tree trunk and raced away. To Gimli, the first elf demanded, "Take me to him!" Gimli was already running back to where he had left Legolas.

When they reached the fallen tree, Gimli nearly cried out with relief to see that the limbs he had arranged had not been disturbed. Now if only Legolas's condition had not grown worse from being out in the open in shock with his legs crushed…Gimli pulled the branches away. "I couldn't move it," he told the strange elf.

At the sight of his kinsman, the dark-haired elf cried, "Legolas!" and pushed Gimli aside, touching his friend's face with a tenderness that seemed more than mere camaraderie. Gimli frowned. This elf was considerably older than Legolas, but now that the dwarf considered it…there was a faint resemblance. Not Thranduil, to be sure, but definitely related. Yes, there it was. He and Legolas had very similar eyes.

"_Dartho_, Tathar, Cand," Legolas murmured, not seeing the other elf. "_Tolel. Dartho_!" Whatever he said, the other elf winced and held him tighter.

"_Im_ _sí, gwanur. Im sí. Avo pedo_. Do not touch the tree, Master Dwarf," said the elder elf when Gimli would have tried to shift it. "Others are coming to aid us." He ducked protectively over Legolas as debris flew over their heads, then looked over at Gimli. "I would know how you came across my brother."

"Brother?" Well, that explained it. Gimli swallowed and said, "I am Gimli, son of Glóin. Your brother and I are traveling companions." He wondered how this elder son of Thranduil would react.

But the dark-haired elf merely nodded. "You are one of the Nine Walkers, then. Word came to us in Mirkwood of the quest, and how it succeeded. You shall have the hospitality of our halls."

Shouts alerted them of the reinforcements arrival, and half a dozen elves appeared, coming toward the tree at a full run. At the forefront was one that Gimli recognized instantly, in spite of having never seen his face in person. Even if his father Glóin had not raised him on stories of this land, Gimli would have instantly recognized the tall, golden-haired, imposing elf at the lead of the group as Thranduil, elven king of Mirkwood.

Considering all the tales he'd been told, Gimli's first impression of the elven king was rather good. "Legolas!" the tall elf cried in great distress. "_Ion nin! Man ind sin_?" he demanded, turning from the other elves to cast accusing eyes on Gimli.

A rapid exchange in Sindarin followed between the elven king and his other son, then a dark-haired elf woman appeared and snapped out an order that sent all of them, even the king, hastily back. She knelt and began examining Legolas. "_Den avo trasto, hîr nin_."

The elven king stepped back, visibly gritting his teeth. Gimli was at first moved by his obvious concern for Legolas until his irate gaze landed on the dwarf. "You have much to explain, intruder."

While Gimli was still staring in astonishment at the near-accusation, Legolas's brother caught the elven king's arm. "My lord, this is Gimli, son of Glóin, one of the Nine Walkers," he said, in Westron for Gimli's benefit. "He and Legolas were traveling companions. It was he who called us to Legolas's aid."

"Gimli…" All heads swiveled toward Legolas in surprise. The elven healer continued her work, but Legolas still raved, trapped somewhere in memory. Gimli knelt beside at his side, and Legolas's gray eyes, though clouded with pain, did focus on the dwarf.

"I'm here, Elf," said Gimli, ignoring the stares of the others. "Right here."

Legolas smiled and murmured, "You have…passed my score by one, but I…do not…grudge you the game, so glad to…see you…on your feet."

Gimli could not help but smile back, and took the elf's hand. "Well, if it's any consolation, Elf, I think your score surpassed mine on the Pelennor Fields. You were rather far ahead when I lost count, and I'll even concede you five for that mumakil. It was a rather impressive kill." He could not be certain that Legolas fully understood him, for the elf's eyes were half-lidded and glassy, but it appeared to bring him comfort. Movement caught the Gimli's eye, and the elven king moved into his line of vision, an expression of utter disbelief at the unreserved affection he could see between the dwarf and his son.

The elven healer rose from where she had been examining Legolas's legs and spoke to several of the others. A litter was brought, and she turned to them all, speaking in Westron. "He must be moved swiftly to shelter once we have freed him. The storm grows worse, and he is in great pain."

As if to prove her point, a large, fat raindrop splattered down upon Gimli's arm. He joined the other elves who were preparing to lift the tree, paying no mind to their odd looks. They could think what they liked of him; he cared not. All he wanted was Legolas freed and safe. "Make ready," called Legolas's brother. The elven king and two others were kneeling beside Legolas to pull him free. "Ready…_now!_"

Groaning with effort, Gimli lifted with all his might, and with the aid of the other four elves, the wide trunk rose. He only faltered a little when he heard Legolas scream; the elven king and the others were dragging him from beneath the tree. After what seemed an eternity, someone cried, "Let it go!" and Gimli and the others dropped the trunk with relief.

Legolas lay, trembling violently and nigh unconscious, upon the litter where the elven king and the healer were covering him with blankets. Then before Gimli had time to join them, his friend was suddenly lifted and borne away smoothly by the elves, leaving the dwarf alone in a group of strangers.

_**To be continued…**_

_**Coming Next Week: **__Gimli_ _is forced to face the realm of the wood elves without Legolas at his side, and gets a few pleasant surprises…as well as some unpleasant discoveries about his friend's kin, while Legolas awakens to learn what has befallen his home and his people in __**Chapter Two: Friend or Foe**_

**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!!!**

Elvish Translations (Sindarin)

_Noro_ _lim--_Ride on.  
_Noro_ _bell_--Ride strong.  
_Im_ _mas--_Where am I?  
_Mellon nin--_my friend  
_Le ennas?--_Are you there?  
_Toltho_ _hervess nin--_Summon my wife!  
_Dartho--_Wait  
_Tolel--_I'm coming.  
_Im_ _sí, gwanur. Im sí. Avo pedo--_I'm here, brother. I'm here. Don't speak.  
_Ion nin! Man ind sin_?--My son! What is the meaning of this?  
_Den avo trasto, hîr nin--_Don't trouble him, my lord.


	2. Friend or Foe

_**A/N:**_ _Many, many, many, many, many thanks for all the wonderful reviews! It's been marvelous hearing from all my old LOTR readers, and amazing to find that you still remember _Nudge. _Please keep the feedback coming!_

_**Canon Note:** A great deal of the events in this story center around _Chapters 11-13 of A Little Nudge Out of the Door._ For those who are skipping over reading the whole thing or who just haven't read the fic in awhile, you might want to brush up on those three chapters. FYI: the elf/dwarf companies'encounter in _Nudge _took place just short of a year after the Battle of the Five Armies in which the dwarves took possession of Lonely Mountain._

Original Character Guide

Berensul: eldest son of King Thranduil, crown prince and heir to the throne  
Eirien: Berensul's wife, formerly of Imladris, Eryn Lasgalen's most skilled healer  
Silivren: Berensul and Eirien's daughter, a novice warrior, about a century old  
Tathar, Candrochon, Merilin: childhood friends of Legolas who trained with him (if you haven't read _Nudge, _read up through Chapter Nine to learn their background)  
Galithil: a warrioress of Eryn Lasgalen who fought beside Legolas  
Faron: a warrior of Imladris, Galithil's husband, who has also fought and traveled with Legolas

**Chapter Two: Friend or Foe**

Gimli, son of Glóin, was not one to shy away from uncomfortable situations, yet the thought of standing among all the elves of Mirkwood bereft of the company of the one elf—well, one of perhaps five elves in all Middle Earth—that he trusted, was nearly enough to send him right past the elven king's halls walking on to Erebor. He watched in dismay as the elves bearing Legolas disappeared into the lingering smoky haze and wondered what to do now. He could hear the mutterings in Sindarin around him, and suspected the elves were debating that very same thing.

At length, the dark-haired son of Thranduil who had first come to their aid came toward him and bowed. "My apologies, son of Glóin. For all this alarm we had not time for proper introductions. I am Berensul, son of Thranduil."

Ah. The elven king's eldest and heir. Legolas spoke fondly of him. Gimli bowed hastily, unable to keep his eyes from where the healer and king had disappeared with Legolas. Berensul noticed and looked faintly amused. "Please return to the halls with me. We will see that your needs are met until it is safe to travel."

Gimli followed him readily enough. "So perils still harry the realm of the wood elves?"

The elf prince nodded. "Perhaps more now than ever, but hope drives us to bear it. The battle in the South drove many fell creatures of Dol Guldur north. My people emerged victorious, but the fire was a grievous wound our woods have suffered, and orcs and spiders still flee through our lands, if in disarray. It is said the men of Dale and Laketown have suffered in the onslaught as well."

"Ahem. I would ask, my lord, whether you have heard any tidings of my folk at Lonely Mountain?" said Gimli carefully.

The elf cleared his throat. "Very little directly, but the men have said the dwarves there fortified the mountain well, so that their stronghold itself was never imperiled. Many men sheltered with them in Lonely Mountain when the Easterlings laid siege to it."

The smoke still hung heavy around them, and the scorch marks upon the trees told Gimli that the fire had come very close to the elven king's stronghold. Before long they were passing large numbers of elves working amid the scorched ruins, and came upon what was obviously the remnants of a large elven dwelling. Gimli was taken aback, seeing the charred ruins of what had been winding tree-stairs, flets, and talan-houses. The entire area had the look of what had once been a very large and impressive dwelling.

Berensul noticed the dwarf's reaction. "This was the outer part of my father's stronghold, built before the shadow encroached so close. Fortunately we had already moved our people within the halls by the time the fire struck. We shall rebuild our settlements in the wood."

They came out through the remains of the outer stronghold, and there the trees were no longer burned. With a sense of dry irony, Gimli recognized the bridge that his father had once been led across, blindfolded, at spearpoint. _And now I follow the son of the king across, of my own free will, out of concern for another elf!_ With that cheery thought, he passed through the elven king's legendary doors into the great halls below the mountain.

"Candrochon!" Lord Berensul called to one of the guards. "Has a chamber been made ready for our guest as I ordered?"

The guard eyed Gimli dubiously and said, "Yes, my lord."

"Escort Master Gimli there," ordered the prince. He nodded to Gimli. "The servants shall see to your needs."

"I beg your pardon, Lord Berensul," said Gimli hastily. "I should like to see how Legolas fares."

There was a murmur down the wide corridor, and the dwarf noticed a large number of curious elves watching, now looking shocked at Gimli's boldness. Legolas's elder brother, on the other hand, appeared strangely gratified. "He is in the healer's care now. I shall send for you as soon as he is well enough for visitors."

Gimli gritted his teeth, wondering whether to press the issue. He did not like the idea of being brushed aside when his friend lay wounded somewhere within these halls, but it was clear that while Lord Berensul meant him no ill, there were few friends in this cavern. Finally, he muttered with ill grace, "Very well."

To his credit, Berensul sensed the dwarf's reluctance. "Elves heal swiftly, Gimli, son of Glóin. Rest tonight, and you shall see him on the morrow." Gimli bowed gratefully and followed the puzzled guards down the corridor.

The room to which they brought him was so deep in the cavern that he had at first wondered if he was to wind up in the elves' dungeons after all. But once he entered, he found that while small, its furnishings were comfortable, and he had not been there five minutes before servants brought food, wine, and hot bathing water. One of them even apologized for its poor quality. "The king's halls are large enough to shelter all his people in times of need, Master Dwarf, but supplies are limited." He assured them that he understood and needed nothing else. _Except to see Legolas._

* * *

_Early the next morning…_

The smell of smoke seemed to have finally left him, though Legolas's throat still felt raw, his lungs heavy. He was lying in a familiar bed in sleep clothes, and he had definitely been washed, probably for the purpose of getting rid of the acrid stink. He felt a strange, floating sensation, and an odd disconnection from the lower half of his body. There was no pain, though he felt there ought to be. He must have been drugged. But by whom? As wakefulness slowly returned to him, he took a deep breath and dissolved into coughing. When the fit passed, there were movements around him. "Welcome home, my son."

"Father?" he whispered hoarsely. His eyelids felt so heavy, and his eyes smarted fiercely.

A large hand touched his face. "Aye, Legolas, I am here. Rest easy. You are safe."

Safe…Legolas still felt so weary. His head drooped against Thranduil's hand as soft, warm darkness began rising up around him, and he let himself sink back down…then, some nagging sliver of memory jabbed at him, erupting in his mind with such alarm that pins and needles swept through his body, despite the herb-induced tranquility. His eyes flew open.

"Gimli!"

"What?" the elven king sat back in surprise. "Oh, the dwarf. Worry not, he is well. Our guards are seeing fewer fell beasts of Dol Guldur cross our land every day. It shall soon be safe for him to return to Erebor."

Legolas turned his head toward his father. The elven king looked immensely tired, and far older than he should appear after only two years. The war had been won, but at a dreadful cost for the realm of Thranduil; his son could see that merely by looking. "How bad?" he asked.

The fire in the hearth hissed softly before Thranduil spoke. "The loss of life was not as bad as it might have been, had we not known of the battles raging at Lórien and in the realms of men surrounding Mordor. We evacuated all our people to the keep before marching on Dol Guldur from the north, once we learned that Lórien's forces came from the south. It worked, but the damage was extensive from the fire."

"How far did the fire reach?" pressed Legolas, fearful of the answer.

Thranduil sighed quietly, and his face served to warn his son. "The outer dwellings and settlements are gone, as are the outward extensions of the halls." Legolas groaned and shut his eyes. He had many happy memories of his days in the outer dwellings; indeed, his family's quarters had been there, rather than inside the caverns, for much of his life. The training rooms where he had practiced as a novice and rough-housed with his friends during free time, the cool, quiet chambers up in the trees where birds sometimes flew through the window…all gone. He felt a lump rise in his throat and winced. The medicines had weakened his ability to control himself. His father took his hand. "Do not mourn for things that may be rebuilt, my son. Now that Dol Guldur is gone, Eryn Lasgalen rises where Mirkwood once shadowed the east."

"Eryn Lasgalen," Legolas murmured. "I like it."

"I should hope so. It was you whom I thought of when I suggested it to Lord Celeborn." Thranduil stroked back his hair. "I am very glad to see you home."

It occurred to Legolas that asking leave to establish a colony in Ithilien might be more difficult than he had first thought. He and his father had been close all of his life—well, most of it. Thranduil had lost three children to orcs before Legolas's birth, and his Queen when Legolas was still a small child. Another of Legolas's elder brothers had traveled over the sea barely fifty years ago. As it was, it could not be terribly long before Legolas followed. For him to spend his last years in Middle Earth so far from his father would be a grief to Thranduil.

But there would be time for that later. For now, there were more immediate concerns. "You have not yet told me who fell," he said quietly.

Thranduil sighed and sank onto the edge of the bed. "Eregdos and Fimsigil fell at Dol Guldur. And Fandoll, Edlothia, and Thalatirn. Gwilwileth and Ulban fell as well. And more than half of the novices in Silivren's level."

Legolas flinched hard. Gwilwileth's sister Salma had been one of Gollum's guards, and Legolas himself had brought the young elf maid's body back to her parents. If both Gwilwileth and her father had now fallen… "What of Alalmë?" he asked, remembering the elven woman's wails of despair at Salma's death.

The look in his father's eyes told him all he needed to know, and he turned away. Thranduil's voice shook slightly. "She faded in less than a week. We…Eirien did all she could, and we thought to send Alalmë over the sea as soon as safety would permit it, but even that could not save her." Legolas stifled a moan, and found himself caught up in his father's arms. "We had word by then that you had survived the battle before the black gate, but waiting for you to return, I felt such fear."

Legolas returned the embrace gladly, then winced. The herbs were beginning to wear off. Thranduil pulled back quickly and called for Eirien before Legolas could forestall him. "I need no more medicines," he said as the healer entered.

Thranduil smiled, not surprised, but Eirien huffed. "Both of your legs were broken, Brother. They will heal cleanly, but you will be in great pain for some days," she urged.

"I am no stranger to pain," said Legolas. "These herbs fuddle my mind so that I can scarcely think."

His brother's wife made a disgusted sound and shook her head. At that moment, Berensul poked his head through the door. "Is he awake?"

"No, I am delirious again."

"Ah, welcome home, my little ray of sunshine, you are as charming as ever," said Berensul, coming to the bedside to embrace Legolas. "And wait! Allow me to guess! You've already vexed Eirien by refusing any further herbs for the pain?"

"He is as stubborn as you are, Husband."

"Really? Why, Legolas, you have become mild-mannered in your old age!" The elven king gave a highly undignified snort, and all of them laughed. "But pardon me, I must—" Berensul broke off. The elves heard footsteps coming down the hall. "Unless I am mistaken, you have not yet greeted your niece."

The door opened, and Silivren, daughter of Berensul and Eirien, came into the room. Legolas was struck by the difference in his young niece's appearance as well. Still very much a novice warrior when he left, she appeared far older now. _Is there any elf in all Middle Earth who has not escaped the touch of the shadow?_ She did not fling herself upon him as she had used to either, but instead came to the bedside and kissed him on the cheek. "Welcome home, Uncle."

"I am glad to be home, Sili," he said softly, raising a hand to her face. Was it merely the firelight and shadows of the room? No, there were bruises darkening one side of her face. She had seen combat, and no mere skirmishes in the wood as he had at her age. She had seen war against the forces of Dol Guldur itself. _So young._ Hesitantly, he asked, "How have things been with you?"

Silivren sighed and sank onto the bed next to him, laying her head against his shoulder more like the child he remembered. "They have been better." He sighed himself and stroked her hair, looking over the top of her head at Berensul.

His brother mouthed at him, _Her company's position was caught by surprise four days ago. Only three survived._ Legolas closed his eyes, feeling Sili's heartbeat against his arm. Yes, Eryn Lasgalen would be cleansed, the trees would grow back, and the dwellings would be rebuilt, but some things could never be restored, including the innocence of the elven maid in his arms. To dispel the sad silence that had fallen, Berensul said aloud, "Pardon me, Legolas, I promised your dwarf friend I would send for him as soon as you had awakened."

"Dwarf?" Silivren's head popped up, looking from her father to her uncle accusingly.

"Aye, Sili, one of the Nine Walkers himself. Had you not heard?" asked Eirien, a faint rebuke in her voice.

Silivren shook her head, still frowning, and Thranduil added, "Surely it is not necessary to do so now. Legolas has only just awoken. The dwarf may see Legolas when he takes his leave before departing for Erebor. There's no need for him to trouble your brother now."

_Ai, Father, how you mistake the situation._ Of the previous day's events, Legolas remembered very little, save hazy snatches of Gimli's voice and Thranduil's face. But there could not have been much time to adequately explain the situation to the elven king, and even if Berensul had understood the circumstances and explained them…it would not be the first time Thranduil had dismissed an explanation he disliked. Legolas took a deep breath, and made the proverbial plunge. "Nay, I wish to see Gimli."

Four elven heads turned sharply toward him. Thranduil blinked, making Legolas think that he truly had not realized the true reasons for the dwarf's presence in Eryn Lasgalen, while Silivren simply looked disturbed. Thranduil's response, Legolas had expected, but obviously Sili had been spending too much time under the tutelage of the wrong novice masters. "What business have you with a dwarf now that the quest is ended?" she demanded.

Legolas stared coolly at her until she began to fidget and look uncomfortably at her parents and Thranduil. Slowly, he answered, "He is my friend."

Silivren exchanged a confused glance with Thranduil, as Eirien put in, "And he is a hero of the War. We all of us owe him our freedom, as with your uncle and every one of the Fellowship."

Thranduil cleared his throat. "Of course, and he shall receive every courtesy of our halls until it is safe for him to return home. But surely you need not stand ceremony for him while you are recovering."

The dwindling strength of the herbs Legolas had been given was resulting in a deep throbbing in his legs, slowly growing like rising tide, while his patience was waning. _Now_ Thranduil was being deliberately obtuse. "You mistake the matter, Father. I wish to see Gimli because he is my friend, and after all that we faced together during the quest, I would welcome his company at any time as much as that of any elf."

Complete silence greeted his words. Of the four, Eirien seemed gratified, Berensul surprised but rather pleased, Silivren appalled, and Thranduil baffled. At length, Silivren blurted, "But…_why?_"

Legolas was torn between amusement and exasperation, and finally settled on amusement. "If your father would be good enough to send for him, you shall discover for yourself, Niece. Dismiss him not because of his race—" a sharp stab of pain lanced up his legs, and he gasped.

His father seized his hand. "Legolas, are you certain you do not want Eirien to give you—" he broke off at the glare his son shot him.

Legolas managed to keep his voice steady in spite of pain and annoyance. "My lord, you are well aware of my feelings on being drugged. I will survive. At this moment, all I desire is to see Gimli."

* * *

The son of Glóin had awakened in surroundings that were familiar and yet…not so. On one hand, the stone ceiling over his head and the sounds in the room betraying the thickness of the walls instantly set his mind at ease. On the other hand, the room was furnished after a fashion that dwarves would never bother with—the bed too soft, the window too large, and Mahal's hammer, there were plants everywhere! Great care had been taken to disguise the bare stone that the chamber was carved from, and no dwarf-made home would sport such appointments.

Then he remembered; he was enjoying the hospitality of none other than Mirkwood's elven king, father of—_Legolas!_ The memory of what had befallen his elven friend the day before sent Gimli leaping from the bed, scrambling for the washbasin to spatter his face, dressing himself, then rushing to the door. The elf's elder brother had promised to send for Gimli once Legolas was "ready for visitors," but who knew how long before the elven king would declare that to be? Gimli started for the door. _Easy, lad, easy. Tread lightly. There's no need to start an uproar just yet. Just walk out and ask to see the elf's brother Berensul, then ask him to see Legolas. Then at least you can find out how he is._

Having calmed away the initial surge of near-panic, Gimli composed himself and strode to the door. He had to admit, the workmanship he had seen in carving out these halls was impressive, but that shouldn't be surprising, given what he had heard of the dwarves' involvement in their construction. The stone door to this room was heavy and solid, but handsomely carved, with an attention to detail clearly striving to remove the sterility of stone (in elven eyes, anyway) and give it a living feel. The artisans had succeeded admirably, with the door's shiny dark handle poking out of carven trees, birds and animals. Gimli grasped it and pulled.

Nothing.

With a frown, the dwarf tried again, but the door would not budge.

_Hmm._ Gimli inspected the handle, wondering if it was a fashion unfamiliar to him that required pulling or pushing a different way, or with a different latch…no. Gimli was a well-reputed smith among his people, but like so many, he had spent his earliest days in the forges fashioning such mundane items as door hinges and handles and window bars. He knew such items like the elves knew their tree-dwellings and men knew their monuments. There was no reason why this door should not be opening unless…it was locked.

Locked. From the outside.

Those double-blasted, thrice-damned elves had _locked him in!_

_Nay, not a dungeon, but just as much a cell._ Gimli growled in fury. Pounding on the door and demanding release would be useless. He could see it was so thick that it was unlikely he would even be heard, assuming anyone would listen. He paced back and forth angrily. And the only person in this blasted place who was likely to speak up for him lay wounded Mahal-knew-where in the caverns. _Fine family you've got here, Legolas._

He had not been storming about the room five minutes before a click sent him spinning toward the door, and it opened to reveal a puzzled Berensul. "Master Dwarf?"

_Calm down. Find Legolas. That's all that matters._ Perhaps it was Gimli's own apprehensiveness for himself that had lent him this sense of urgency, as though Legolas were somehow in hostile territory merely by associating with Gimli. Whatever the reason, the dwarf managed to set aside his outrage at being locked up in favor of courtesy, simply for the sake of finding his friend. "Lord Berensul," he replied coolly.

"My brother is awake and asking for you. Please follow me." The elf could obviously sense Gimli's mood, but Gimli dared not raise his grievance until he'd had a chance to talk to Legolas. So he marched after the elf lord, gritting his teeth and ignoring the stares of the rest of Mirkwood's population in the halls.

Without exactly meaning to, he marked the way. Thranduil's heir led him upward from the deep place in the cavern where he had been kept, into halls which clearly hosted living chambers. Cleverly-placed openings in the ceilings allowed light to filter down from the outdoors, keeping the air fresh, circulating the smoke from lanterns and torches away. Once they reached a corridor where no more elves milled here and there, Gimli realized they were in a section reserved for the elven king's family.

Waiting outside one of the doors was an elf woman who appeared somewhat familiar, but Gimli could not quite place her. She was older than Legolas, with brown hair and features different from Thranduil and his sons. "My wife, Lady Eirien of Imladris, healer of Eryn Lasgalen," said Berensul.

That explained it. She was the healer who had treated Legolas the day before in the woods, but wore now a gown instead of sooty traveling clothes. Gimli bowed to her, and was surprised to see her smile as she returned it. "Well met, Lord Gimli. My regards to your father." At the dwarf's startled expression, her blue eyes twinkled. "I was in Imladris when the party of Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins passed through." Feeling vindicated, as if he had at last encountered another ally in this strange and not-necessarily-friendly place, Gimli accorded her a warmer bow, then went past her into the chamber.

He nearly stopped short upon crossing the threshold. The bed in the chamber was occupied, but also in the room were none other than the elven king himself and a young elven maid, both standing between the bed and Gimli as if to shield the bed's occupant from the dwarf's presence. Thranduil's expression was the unreadable blankness of one who was carefully guarding his own reactions while hoping another might reveal something. He did not seem to be actively blocking Gimli from reaching his son, but the dwarf had no doubt that his presence made Thranduil most uncomfortable. But it also struck Gimli how very like Legolas Thranduil looked. Though obviously older and quite a bit wearier, the elven king had golden hair, like Legolas's only deeper, and there was no doubt in Gimli's mind as from whence Legolas had got his eyes. Indeed, the expression on the elven king's face at this very moment was precisely the same one that Gimli remembered from one of his first impressions of Legolas during the Council of Elrond—not entirely comfortable with the circumstances, but determined not to betray a thing.

The other elf barring Gimli's way to his friend's side was the first elf he had seen who was noticeably younger than Legolas. This must be the niece Legolas spoke of with such fondness, though Gimli was disinclined to any warmth toward her at the moment. Beautiful she was, to be sure: very tall, with hair of Thranduil's deep gold rather than Legolas's pale gold, and blue eyes of the same brilliance as the Imladris healer Gimli had just met. Were she a mortal woman, Gimli would have put her age at no more than seventeen. But the maiden's lovely eyes were narrowed, and her fair face pulled into a faint scowl as she regarded Gimli with a definite air of superiority and suspicion. The dwarf had no doubt that she considered his lowly presence here a great affront.

But he wasn't about to let some upstart elf-girl, or even the elven king himself, prevent him from reaching Legolas now. So he said nothing and bowed. Sarcastically. Then from behind him, Berensul called, "Legolas? Gimli the dwarf is here."

All Gimli could see was the bedclothes shifting. "Gimli?" said a familiar but weak voice. The dwarf was alarmed, but the speaker was amused. "My lord, Sili, stand aside and let me see him. I assure you he'll not eat me."

With great reluctance, the other two elves did as their injured kinsman bade, and Gimli went quickly to the bedside, struggling to hide his dismay. Legolas was pale and obviously in no small amount of pain. There was a thin sheen of sweat upon his fair face, and his smile was weak. It occurred to Gimli that he had never seen Legolas wounded before this; how was it that that idiot elf had managed to get all the way through the War of the Ring with nary a scratch, only to have a tree fall on him within three miles of his home? "How are you, Elf?" he asked quietly.

"Better, now that I see you are well," said Legolas. Gimli couldn't help his eyes straying toward the elf's legs, invisible though they were beneath the bedclothes, and the elf said, "My brother's wife tells me they shall mend completely. I shall merely face a difficult few days."

"Days?" Gimli exclaimed. He had known elves healed swiftly, but…

Legolas nodded with a flicker of irritating elvish smugness. "Aye. No more than a fortnight, but as soon as a week if I behave myself." His eyes flicked past Gimli to Eirien, conveying some private joke. Then they suddenly hardened at the other elven watchers, and he said, "I fear events prevented proper introductions. Gimli, son of Glóin, I present my father, Thranduil Oropherion, Lord and King of Eryn Lasgalen." Gimli turned quickly to face the elven king and afforded him another, less curt bow, and Thranduil acknowledged it with a nod of his head. Legolas went on, "And my niece, Silivren, daughter of Berensul." The girl at first made no move to acknowledge Gimli's bow, but upon receiving a sharp look from her father, accorded Gimli an extravagantly haughty bow of her own. _Quite the little spitfire, that one._

Evidently, the Lady Eirien noticed her daughter's airs and disapproved, because from the doorway, she said, "Come, Sili. There is work to be done without, and we should leave your uncle and Master Gimli to talk." The girl shot her mother a resistant look, but the Imladris elf made a sharp gesture that set her daughter, sulking noticeably, out the door. Berensul followed, and only a few moments later, a servant appeared to request the elven king's presence elsewhere in the halls. Thranduil was no happier about abandoning his supervision of Gimli than Silivren had been, but he too went away.

Both Gimli and Legolas let out their breath as the door closed. "Ai, I do love Eirien," sighed Legolas. "I thought they would never leave."

"Well, Elf, I must say, your family seems quite welcoming!" said Gimli, and Legolas winced. "Well. If it's any consolation, your brother there and his wife have been most courteous. Though their daughter has little liking for me, I see."

"Forgive Sili. I fear she takes her grief out on you as a stranger in these lands." Legolas looked dismal. "She is not the child I left two years ago. Berensul told me her company was caught in an ambush only four days ago—half of the novices in her rank were there. Only three survived."

Gimli grimaced and nodded sympathetically. Such events were dreadful for youngsters. He pondered mentioning the locked door, but decided against it. The elf had enough to worry about. "For all you elves heal quickly, you look to be in great discomfort, my friend. Is there naught your healers can do to ease it?"

"Nay, they have herbs that ease the pain, but that also give me the sensation that I am floating just below the ceiling and that none of my limbs are attached to my body," replied Legolas. "Elven bones mend very quickly; the discomfort is a mere side effect. I shall survive. The worst shall be over within a week." His attempt at a reassuring smile was more a grimace, and the elf gave up, laying back upon the pillows as Gimli placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Idiot elf."

"What?" asked Legolas, feigning affront.

"You managed to get through the entire War with nary a scratch only to wind up hit by a tree."

"Ha—ah! Don't make me laugh!" the elf groaned, but he was grinning. "Indeed, I must admit being mortified. Of course, I would not have been hit if I had not had to shove your heavy bulk out of the way first."

"Fah! You'd think the tree would've warned you first, seeing how you elves commune with them so!" Gimli retorted.

He saw at once that the jest had fallen flat; Legolas's face fell. "The tree was dead, Gimli. That is why it fell without warning."

Gimli cursed himself; he should have remembered the elf would mourn the dead trees and creatures of Mirkwood nearly as much as his fallen kindred. "Sorry, Elf," he muttered. Legolas smiled faintly, sweat beading upon his forehead, and Gimli went to where a basin sat with a cloth near the bed, and began blotting at the elf's face.

"By the Valar, Gimli, you need not mother me as you did the hobbits," said Legolas, though he did not turn his head away.

Gimli did not stop, but retorted, "I never _mothered_ the hobbits!"

"You hovered about them enough in the Houses of Healing."

"And of course, you know this because you were hovering right behind me!"

"In any case, I am not a hobbit."

"No, but none of the hobbits, for all their assorted ailments and mishaps, never managed to get himself hit by a tree."

"Blessed Elbereth, I shall never live that down."

"No, Elf, you shall not."

"You intend to tell all Middle Earth, I can tell."

"Oh, I'm much more sly than that. Once I bring my dwarves to Aglarond as planned, I fully intend to mention it in my very first conversation with King Eomer…and then allow nature to take its course! None shall ever accuse _me_ of being the gossip!" Legolas laughed, but it was weak, and his face was turning whiter than ever. "Elf? Legolas, are you well?"

"Yes, Gimli," his friend whispered, his eyes no longer focused on the dwarf. "Do not concern yourself. I have broken limbs many times before now; it shall pass."

Gimli was anxious. It was obvious that the elf was in considerable pain, yet he spoke so casually of enduring it unaided when there was a variety of methods of relief close at hand! What was he attempting to prove? But unlike yesterday, Legolas was in clear possession of all his wits, and was not about to permit anyone to force pain-relieving draughts upon him if he did not want them. So the dwarf sighed and patted the elf's shoulder again. "Perhaps you should rest then. Shall I leave you?"

"Your company…always…welcome," murmured Legolas.

"And you are stuck with it, Elf, until you drag that carcass of yours from that bed and accompany me to Lonely Mountain," said the dwarf. Legolas smiled, but then Gimli saw his eyes lose focus in elven slumber, and decided this was the best thing for his friend at the moment. He released his grip on the elf and made his way as quietly as possible to the door, then closed it behind him. To his surprise, no guards were visible, so he went back in the direction Berensul had first brought him.

Gimli was accomplished at directing himself under ground, and so found his way to the main corridor fairly easily. After that, rather than stroll back down to that nice little room to be locked in again, he went outward, toward the main doors. He remembered his father saying that they were magic and would not let anyone out once they had come in, and he was curious to see them for himself.

He reached them with no trouble, walking openly through the wide corridor past the guards, letting them assume he had leave to pass freely. But as Glóin's story had told, the doors would not open, though Gimli was more amused than annoyed to discover it. As he shrugged it off and started to turn back, intending to do a little more exploring, the doors opened outward behind him, and he glanced back to see two elven warriors coming through. They were more startled to see him than he was to see them.

Rather than be questioned like some trespasser, Gimli nodded gruffly to the pair and started on his way. But to his intense surprise, one of them called after him, in a voice more tentative than accusative. "Master Dwarf?"

He stopped and turned, facing them calmly. It was the warrioress who spoke, but for once, neither of them seemed to find him suspect. "At your service, Lady."

The maiden stepped forward with a hesitant smile. "I beg your pardon, Master Gimli. I am a friend to Legolas, and had heard of your arrival. I wished…" she blushed, glancing at the elf man, who merely smiled at her. "You come from Erebor, do you not?"

Puzzled, Gimli nodded. "Aye, my lady."

The other elf hissed something at her in elvish, but he sounded amused at her expense rather than Gimli's. Flushing harder, the warrioress explained, "Whilst traveling in a war party many years ago, we encountered a company of dwarves on their way to explore Moria. We shared their road for some time, and I wished to enquire after them."

Gimli was surprised, but pleasantly so. He did recall hearing stories from that scouting company about the road they had shared with the elves, and most of them had been reasonably favorable. Perhaps he and Legolas might yet find understanding with both their kin. He eyed the warrioress, recalling the remarks he had heard from the dwarves who had been members of that party. _Oh, by Mahal's Hammer... _"Legolas!" he exclaimed aloud, finally connecting the vague memory of the dwarves speaking of Thranduil's son. "Legolas was in that company?"

The warrioress smiled and nodded. "Aye, Lord Gimli, he was."

"I had never realized," Gimli mused. His friends Sháin and Sothi had told him a good deal about the elven company when they returned, but Gimli, like most dwarves in Erebor, had been more interested in hearing about the fair maidens they had befriended than some minor son of the elven king…_Maidens_. Gimli looked at the warrioress in astonishment. Dark brown hair, the color of chestnuts, and startling light grey eyes …had Sháin or Sothi ever mentioned…his gaze fell to the silver chain around her neck from which hung a pale, large stone, creamy white and lustrous, but not a pearl. Now _that_ he recognized. Sháin had always had a lust for moonstone. He looked at the warrioress in awe, now certain of who she was. "Sháin's Moon Maiden!" he blurted.

The elf warrior beside her began to laugh. "By the Valar, Galithil, your reputation precedes you."

The maiden's blush had returned, and she fingered the stone. "Rather the reputation of Master Sháin's parting gift."

Gimli never would have imagined it ten minutes ago, but he felt now as though he had found an old friend. "Nay, Lady Galithil, I assure you, my friend spoke often of the strong and courteous warrior-maid he met on the road, who was named after the pale moon. And many of his traveling companions felt the stone was a worthy gift."

By now, the corridor guards were watching the exchange curiously, and the warrior accompanying Galithil said, "In that case, Master Gimli, I hope you will convey our regards to Master Sháin and his companions when you return to Lonely Mountain. For I may safely tell you that my wife reminisces often of the time they traveled together."

"Wife? Ah." Gimli gave Sháin's Moon Maiden a knowing smile. It was quite true; Sháin had worn out many an ear with tales of that encounter. Gimli would certainly have to make it known when he returned that…wait. _Oh…damn._ He'd forgotten. In everything that had happened, he'd forgotten.

_Sháin_ _and Sothi went to Moria with Balin. Splinter the stones!_

Galithil and her husband had seen Gimli's face fall, and looked at him with concern. "Master Dwarf?"

Gimli sighed quietly. "Mistress…I am very sorry. Many of us back at Erebor have long desired a glimpse of this maiden who made such an impression upon our friend…but now I fear that having done so, I must bear her ill tidings."

The pair looked at each other in dismay, and the warrior put a gentle hand upon her shoulder. "Speak, Master Gimli," he said.

"I know not what word has reached you of the doings of the dwarves since then," said Gimli reluctantly. "But you may well have heard that a large party left Lonely Mountain to reestablish our people's ancient stronghold in Moria." They nodded. "Naldin, Sháin, and Sothi were part of that second group. Whilst I was traveling with the Fellowship, we passed through the mines." He took a deep breath. How the memory still stung. He had lost relatives and many friends. "They had remained inhabited by many of the fell beasts of Sauron and Morgoth. None of the colonists survived."

The warrior grimaced, and the lady's face grew pinched with sorrow. "Oh…" she whispered, her hand clutching the stone around her neck. Raising it, she kept her eyes on it as she said, "Then, Master Gimli, when you return to your people, please convey to them my…deepest…" she broke off and looked away.

Standing silently before them, Gimli was moved. He had heard—many, many, _many _times—how Sháin had admired that elven maid, but it had never truly occurred to him or any others that the regard might be mutual. The warrior stepped in, both hands on his wife's shoulders. "Please convey to your people, Master Gimli, the heartfelt sorrow for their loss, from Galithil of Eryn Lasgalen, and Faron of Imladris. It was our honor and pleasure to share our road with the company of Naldin."

Gimli blinked. Several times. Once he trusted his own voice, he told them quietly, "Upon my word, Master Faron, Mistress Galithil, I shall give your message to every member of the company who remains in Lonely Mountain, to Sháin's father, and to the king himself."

Faron bowed, then led Galithil off into one of the side corridors. Gimli stood where he was for several moments afterward. Aye, he would convey their message. It would be well for those among his people who would be inclined to condemn his friendship to Legolas to be reminded of another friendship between elf and dwarf—where at news of the dwarf's death, an elven maid had wept for him.

Gimli turned away slowly, sadness still lingering upon his heart at the memory of poor old Sháin, the good-natured, humorous dwarf whose reputation had been fixed forever as an elf-fancier thanks to this Galithil. Sothi had been another, though it hadn't been the same warrioress he'd been enamored with. What had her name been? Gimli could not recall. Perhaps Legolas would know. If she remained in Mirkwood, the least Gimli could do was give her the sad news of Sothi's fate.

He took two steps back down the corridor and stopped abruptly. Standing directly in the center of the corridor was the Princess Silivren. In the darkened corridor, with the sun's rays shut out and the lantern light flickering over her golden hair, her tall and proud stance reminded Gimli very faintly of the Lady Galadriel. But no, he decided, as she advanced upon him, any attempt at such a comparison was quashed by the Lady Silivren's malevolent bearing.

"Master Dwarf," she said, with distaste like that of a queen addressing a criminal to whom she was reluctantly granting mercy. "The guards have sent word that way northeast is clear. It is time you took your leave."

Gimli was so taken aback that he simply stared. How precisely did she intend to carry out this little eviction? The crown prince's daughter she was, and Thranduil's direct heiress, after her father. But still, what power did she have to withdraw the elven king's hospitality, or even her father's, let alone Legolas's? How could she do this?

Watching the dwarf's reaction, the elf princess flicked her eyes past him to the guards in the corridor. "Criston! Hallion!" Gimli turned to see two of the guards hastily leaving their positions and coming toward him. "Escort the Dwarf to the eastern edge of our land."

_Oh. That's how._ Gimli's mind raced. Forcing his voice to remain mild, he turned back to the princess and said, "I should not like to depart without my gear, my lady."

Without breaking eye contact with him, Silivren waved a hand, and a servant stepped from the shadows holding Gimli's gear and weapons. _Conniving little minx, aren't you? As quick on the uptake as your uncle._ But even that comparison seemed profane, for there was a glint in her eye that Gimli, for all his old prejudices, had never seen nor even imagined in one of the Eldar, least of all Legolas. With a sneer to match it, she added, "And you need not concern yourself with leave-takings. I shall convey your farewells to my father's household. We would not wish to delay you from being on your way." She jerked her head at the two guards flanking Gimli, and they stepped forward.

The dwarf pondered defying her. Granted, the household was obviously required to respond to her orders just as if the king himself had given them, but surely Lord Berensul would overrule her. Assuming, of course, that he or the Lady Eirien were somewhere that Gimli could reach them. He eyed the elf-woman in front of him, and decided that this was most definitely not a bluff. He recalled the old comments of his father and the other elder dwarves about elves, which he now dismissed as prejudice. Perhaps there was some truth to them…in some cases.

_If so, I'm standing right in front of one of them._ And if so, she would stop at nothing to have Gimli away from Mirkwood, including arranging an unfortunate "accident." No, looking at her…he would not put such a thing past her.

And it was not as if he would never see Legolas again. The elf would certainly return to Minas Tirith, and he intended to bring some of his folk to Ithilien. Gimli was not certain when that would come to pass, but once he himself returned to Gondor and Rohan, he would try to get word to Legolas explaining what had happened. Once Legolas learned, he would understand—and with any luck, give this niece of his a sound hiding.

Did elves thrash recalcitrant children? _Well, always a good time to start!_

Without bowing, Gimli took his belongings from the servant and turned his back on Silivren. He heard her whisper something in elvish to one of the guards, then they marched Gimli back down the corridor. The magic doors opened at the princess's command, but as they did so, sunlight was cast down one of the first side corridors. And Gimli saw a figure, mostly concealed by the shadow, but the light flickered off the moonstone pendant she wore.

He dared not look directly at her, for fear of bringing the down the princess's wrath, but he quietly raised his axe before his chest in a subtle dwarven salute. And the warrioress hidden in the shadows raised a hand to clasp the moonstone hanging at her breast. Well. With any luck, word would reach Legolas much sooner of his niece's doings.

The elves escorted Gimli in a swift and silent march to the east until they broke through the trees, and the solitary hulk of Lonely Mountain rose grey in the distance. Assuming he encountered no obstacles such as orcs or bandits or elves sent by Silivren to dispatch him for good, Gimli thought he could reach it in two days. One of the elves cleared his throat as Gimli stepped away from them, and looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Master Dwarf, I am bidden by Lady Silivren to convey a parting message."

"Really?" asked Gimli sarcastically. "This I simply must hear!"

It was obvious that the guard had never been asked to convey a message like this before, and when he did, Gimli could understand. "My lady bids me warn you not to return to Eryn Lasgalen, or it shall be the worse for you."

_**To be continued…**_

_**Coming Next Week: **__Two homecomings turn ugly when Legolas learns the reason for his friend's unexpected departure from the elven king's halls, and Gimli discovers what some of his own kinsmen have been up to in the aftermath of the war in __**Chapter Three: A Chain of Wrongs!**_

**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!!!**


	3. A Chain of Wrongs

_**A/N:**_ _Many, many thanks to my wonderful readers for all your reviews! Your theories and criticism about the story are much appreciated! Please keep them coming!_

**Chapter Three: A Chain of Wrongs**

_The next day…_

"What do you mean he is gone?" Legolas, groggy with pain, demanded. "How can he be gone?"

Eirien shook her head. "As soon as the Home Guard was satisfied that the way to the east had been cleared of Dol Guldur's minions, Master Gimli departed. He bade us give you his farewells, but he desired to return home most urgently."

Confused and very sore, Legolas sighed. "I was to go with him, to meet his people. We had planned it…I do not understand."

With a helpless shrug, Eirien bathed his face. "I know not his reasoning, Brother; I was not there when he departed. But there is naught to be done now until you are well. If you wish, you can send a message after him, or go to Erebor yourself once you are well enough to travel."

Her cool cloth on his face was scant relief for the confusion and hurt within Legolas. He certainly did not begrudge Gimli the chance to reunite with his own people, but…why would the dwarf leave without bidding his farewell face-to-face? Especially after he had vowed to stay with Legolas until they could travel to Lonely Mountain together! Or at least to plan some future time when they would meet again! There had to be a reason, but Legolas still could not deny that it hurt. "Eirien?"

"Legolas?"

"About the draughts."

Eirien smiled and went to her collection of herbs and potions. "When necessity dictates remaining on one's back for an extended length of time, little brother, there is no shame in sleeping through it." She brought him back a cup and said, "Be not so sad. The time will pass that much faster, and then you may storm off to Erebor and demand an accounting of your dwarven friend's ill manners."

Taking the cup, Legolas had to smile. "Father will probably say this is further proof of the faithlessness of dwarves."

The expression on Eirien's face gave him pause as he raised the cup to his lips, then they both began to laugh. Legolas winced in pain, and she chided him, "Stop that. You will jostle your legs. But yes, as you have guessed, he already said something to that effect."

"By the Valar, he never changes."

"Disinclination toward change runs in his bloodline, I have observed. Take your potion, princeling, and be of good cheer. All will be well."

* * *

_The day after that…_

"My Lord Thorin!" bellowed Tili, bursting into the main hall of Thorin II Stonehelm, King under the Mountain. "He's returned! Gimli Glóinson has returned!"

Every dwarf in the room sprang to his feet, many of them making at once for the door, over Thorin's shouts of, "Let him in here, then, for a proper welcome! A feast! There shall be a feast tonight to celebrate the return of Gimli of the Fellowship! Gimli of the Nine Walkers!"

Said Walker's father, Glóin, shoved his way to the front of the mob. "Where is my lad!? Gimli! Where is that boy?!" Bursting into the entrance to the halls, Glóin swept up his son in a wild embrace. "And you return a hero of the War, just as I knew you would! Welcome home, my boy! Welcome home!"

As King Thorin Stonehelm had ordered, a great feast was prepared for that evening, and all the dwarves in Erebor bade Gimli recount his adventures. "What last we heard you'd been seen traveling with an elf, Gimli!" said Forin.

"Aye, it's true," Gimli said, matter-of-factly. "One of the Nine Walkers was Legolas of Mirkwood. We came back east together."

"Enjoy your time with Thranduil's get?"

"As it happens, I did. Legolas has been a good friend to me, and I to him," said Gimli. What initial thoughts he had entertained of breaking the news of his unusual friendship gently had long since been brushed aside, both by his promise to bring them the message from Sháin's Moon Maiden and also due to his treatment at the hands of Silivren—out of a determination that his people would _not_ be permitted to sink to such a level. "When fire and fleeing orcs threatened our road, he gave me the hospitality of his home." _Not really a lie, after all. Legolas most certainly gave it._

Already some of the older dwarves in the room were chuckling at him. "And did you enjoy the hospitality of the elven king's halls, Glóinson?" asked Dwalin, raising his mug of ale in a mock-toast.

"I don't believe the elves knew what to make of me anymore than you lot know what to make of Legolas," said Gimli dryly, then brought out his hidden weapon. "But one of them gave me a message for all of you."

"Really?" laughed Thorin. He gestured around the banquet tables. "Someone here been concealing an elf friend all this time?"

"Not anymore," said Gimli, with a pang of regret for fallen friends. "The message is from an elven maid by the name of Galithil."

He watched his kinsmen carefully as they pondered. "Galithil, Galithil," muttered Glóin. "Sounds familiar! Where've I heard that name before?"

Then Tili's jaw dropped. Gimli remembered both Tili and his son had known a little elvish. "Not…"

"Aye." Gimli nodded. For the benefit of the others, he explained, "The name means 'pale moon.'"

A long silence followed. "Mahal's hammer!" exclaimed Frór II. "Sháin! Sháin's Moon Maiden!"

"The very one," Gimli replied.

That at least had impressed them. "So is she as breathtaking as Sháin used to prattle on about?" asked Tili, toying with the meat on his plate.

"In all truthfulness, I saw fairer elves during the Quest, but aye, she is very fair. Wedded now to one Faron of Imladris—a friend of Legolas, as it happens. And she still has Sháin's moonstone. Wears it around her neck to this day."

Murmurs of—at last—approval rippled along the tables. Tili looked a little wistful, remembering the son he had lost in Moria. Many of the other dwarves in the room had lost kin there. "How did you find her?" Forin asked.

"I didn't; she found me. The lady and her husband sought me out at the very threshold of the elven king's halls, asking after Naldin's people," said Gimli. Then he sighed. "And I had to give her the news. None of them knew Sháin had gone to Moria." He brandished his mug at them. "So don't mock me for my friendship with an elf. In the elven king's halls, I saw an elf maid weep for a dwarf."

Astonished chatter broke out among the dwarves, and several clanked their mugs in approval. "Well, strike the hot iron," mused Forin. "Most of Naldin's company came back saying the elves of that company were decent folk, and your Legolas was among them."

"Not all Naldin's group thought so," pointed out Frór.

Gimli frowned, scanning the table. "I remember. Where is Lorben? And Therik and…"

"Broni," supplied Glóin. "They departed a some days ago to trade in Laketown. They're due back in another week or so."

* * *

_About ten days later…_

"Legolas! You are up again!" Lady Merilin, one of Legolas's oldest and dearest friends, ran to embrace him when he appeared on the bridge outside the king's halls. "Welcome home!"

Legolas pulled back from their hug, puzzled. "Did you not come to see me when I was recovering?"

Merilin chuckled. "I did, but I was not certain that you would remember. You were only somewhat conscious at the time." She gestured to his legs. "How do they feel?"

"Stiff, but that is as much from inactivity. Eirien tells me I may not engage in any footraces, but light exercise shall see me hale again," said Legolas. "How is Cand? I do not recall if he came or not."

"He wished to, but that niece of yours would not allow it," Merilin laughed.

Turning his face from enjoying the breeze, Legolas blinked at her. "What?"

"Oh, I mean no disrespect; the poor child was very anxious for you. While you slept she would let none see you at all; it was only by chance that I happened to come when you were somewhat awake. Galithil and Faron never managed to see you at all."

"By the Valar, that little wretch is worse than Limloeth!" laughed Legolas. "I shall have to—aha! And there is one of my absent friends now!" Galithil was coming out onto the bridge to meet them. "Come, Gal, I've not seen you in two years, nor even congratulated you and Faron!"

Though she returned his embrace, Legolas noticed how incredibly tense his friend was. He released her in confusion. Galithil murmured an awkward greeting to Merilin and said, "Legolas, I…" There was great distress in her face. "I wished to speak to you sooner, but I was unable to."

Legolas laughed. "Do not be uneasy; Merilin told me of my niece's overprotectiveness. I shall have words for her later."

But his reassurance did not ease Galithil's anxiety. Wringing her hands in a fashion very unlike her usual temperamental self, she murmured, "My lord…" Merilin's eyebrows shot up. "Forgive me. May I speak with you in private?"

Both Merilin and Legolas were now greatly alarmed. "Gal, dear, are you in trouble?" gasped Merilin.

Galithil shook her head, looking to Legolas for assent. "Of course," he said softly. "Please pardon us, Mer." Merilin nodded, and Legolas gestured for Galithil to precede him as they walked back into the elven king's halls, leaving their friend standing on the bridge, looking greatly troubled.

Inside the halls, they found one of the king's smaller meeting rooms, and Legolas led Galithil inside and closed the door. "Come," he said, beckoning to the table. "Sit, and tell me your trouble."

"My lord, I would rather stand," she murmured, not meeting his eyes.

_By the Valar ,what has happened?_ Legolas remained on his feet, though his legs ached, and took her hands. "As you wish. Now, Galithil, be at ease. You are an old and trusted friend to me, and a faithful warrioress of Eryn Lasgalen. Whatever you seek, I shall do all in my power to aid you."

Galithil shook her head. "It is…my lord, I am not precisely certain whether I overstep my bounds by coming to you. But what I must report…" _So that is it. She has witnessed something dreadful and must now report a perpetrator. Oh, Valar, do not let it be Faron!_ She had trailed off again, and Legolas raised a hand to her chin, lifting it to make her look at him. In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "I fear that I have seen one of the household in an act of abuse of the king's authority."

Now it was Legolas who sat down. Heavily. _One of the household?!_ _Abusing Father's authority?!_ Galithil knelt in front of him, and he desired to bid her rise and not act as a suppliant, but his mind was whirling too fast. "Go on," he said.

Swallowing hard, she said, "It concerns Gimli the dwarf. Your friend."

Legolas felt as though someone had driven an arrow made of ice into his heart. It had to do with the abrupt manner of Gimli's departure, he was certain. Could one of his own family, his own flesh, have not only gone against his wishes but abused their royal authority to somehow harm the dwarf? "Go on," he whispered again.

Her eyes downcast, Galithil told him. "I had been speaking to Master Gimli in the main corridor, and then gone to the guardroom to deposit my spear. When I was coming back, I heard one of the household ordering Master Gimli from the king's lands. They ordered two of the guards to escort him to the border and bade him never return. I know not the particulars, my lord, but I am certain she did not act with the king's authority, and certainly against the wishes of you and Lord Berensul."

_She._ "Who was it, Galithil?"

Her head still bowed as though she were the miscreant, Galithil said, "The Lady Silivren."

_Oh Sili, Sili, what have you done?_ But now was not the time to think as an uncle. Legolas asked quietly, "And she claimed to have the king's authority?"

"She did not say so in words, my lord. But…" Galithil looked helplessly at him.

"But…she commanded the guards and servants in such a fashion as to give this impression," Legolas finished. Galithil nodded. It was all he could do not to bury his face in his hands. Silivren, as Thranduil's grandchild, was well-schooled in the laws and customs regarding behavior of the king's family, and one of the strictest of all was against using one's royal authority to take actions not endorsed by the king, or worse still, to take actions in direct opposition to another, more senior member of the household. The consequences for such abuse could be severe.

Legolas forced himself to remain composed, despite the grief, hurt, and white-hot fury beginning to coarse within him. He took Galithil's hands again, drew her toward him, and kissed her brow. "I know how difficult this was for you, my friend. And I thank you. It was proper for you to bring this to my attention, for action must be taken. Rise, and free yourself of distress in this matter. You have done all that duty and friendship ask."

They both rose and went to the door, hand in hand. Legolas took a deep breath as he opened it and watched her go, schooling himself for the storm that must now descend. _Oh Gimli!_ To think that after both he and Berensul had assured Gimli, his friend, a hero of the War, the hospitality of Thranduil's halls, and then had it unlawfully revoked by an upstart elfling—his blood boiled. _How dare she!?_

Being the only child born to any of Thranduil's children, Legolas had to admit that Silivren was rather indulged, by himself as well as by his siblings and even by the king. But she had always been such a good-natured child! How could she do such a thing? How could she breach the trust that Thranduil's people placed in him and his family by such an act?

Down the corridors of the elven king's halls, elves jumped hastily out of the youngest prince's way, greatly alarmed by the naked rage upon his face. Merilin saw him in the hall and exclaimed, "Legolas, what—"

"Forgive me, my lady," he said, brushing past her. "I have urgent business." His friend gaped after him.

She would be in the schoolroom, Legolas recalled as he stalked down the corridor, continuing in her warrior's instruction and being instilled with the customs of living as a member of the king's household. Customs she had already thrust aside. With that livid thought, Legolas reached the door and felt no compunction about giving his niece a lesson she would never forget.

* * *

"_Silivren!"_ The doors to the schoolroom were thrown open with such force that they slammed against the side walls.

Seated at their work tables dutifully studying the realm's history, several novices of various ages started right from their seats, slates and writing implements and books flying in all directions, and the steward directing them jumped up as well. "My Lord Legolas!" he blurted.

Legolas Thranduilion, all told, was among the milder-mannered of the elven king's children. All in all, his reputation was for being good-natured and patient, not quick to anger. Few among his people or even his family had seen him in a temper, and those who had agreed that it was not a state to take lightly.

The youngest son of the king stormed forward without so much as glancing at Anunborn, honing instantly in upon the wide-eyed, golden-haired princess at the table near the front of the room. The shock on her face turned to near-fright, and she had no time to do more than gasp as he seized her by the arm and hauled her bodily from behind her desk.

"You will pardon me, Steward, but Lady Silivren shall have to complete this lesson at another time!" Anunborn, still gaping outright with his remaining students, bowed hastily, as Legolas dragged his niece back out the doors.

* * *

"What are you doing?!" Silivren cried, having got over her initial fright and now painfully aware of the tightness of her uncle's grip on her arm. "Let go!"

"I think not. You have a serious charge to answer for, my lady!" Legolas snapped. He knew that Anunborn would waste no time informing Berensul of what had happened. Nor did he mind, but he intended to say his piece to the girl before the formalities began. With Silivren still sputtering and protesting, he hauled her to the nearest empty chamber and flung her inside, slamming the door behind them.

Silivren spun around to face him, alarmed and indignant. "What do you mean, manhandling me like that?" she demanded.

The rage in her uncle's face as he advanced cowed her at once. His voice was low and dangerous. "I know what you did to Gimli."

Her chin lifted. "I know not what you speak of."

It was the wrong card to play.

"_Do not lie to me, Niece!"_ Legolas roared, seizing her by the shoulders. She squeaked in surprise. "You were seen! A warrioress of the realm saw you violate the trust of a guest of Eryn Lasgalen! She saw you revoke the hospitality given him by myself and your father! Do you not realize what you have done? The authority given members of the House of Thranduil is a sacred trust that you have flagrantly abused! Gimli is one of the Fellowship of the Ring, one who fought for the freedom of all our peoples against the minions of Mordor, to whom each and every one of us owes their life! And he is my friend! My friend! _How dare you?!"_

Silivren wrenched away. "Dwarves have no right to be here," she retorted.

"That is not for you to decide, elfling, and your father's orders are not for you to revoke!"

"I did not—"

Legolas raised a finger in front of her face. "Do not try to take me for a fool, my brother's daughter, or you will regret it. Galithil saw every move you made that day, and that you did not openly invoke the royal authority does not mean you did not use it."

"Her!" spat Silivren, blue eyes flashing. "The only warrior in the realm who consorted with dwarves! I don't suppose you troubled to have an oath of truth from her before accusing me of wrongdoing!"

Legolas was so enraged that he began to shake. Silivren blanched and took a step back, but then the door to the room burst open. "Legolas!"

It was Berensul, taking in the scene before him in astonishment. Eirien was but a step behind him. Slowly, Legolas stepped back. "You arrive in good time, Brother," he said in a low voice, breathing heavily. "Never have I struck one of my kin, but I fear the desire to do so is greater than it ever has been in my lifetime. But now you are here, so I shall withdraw, and bid you look to your daughter for explanations. And mark me," he hissed, whirling back toward Silivren. "I shall hear from your father what you have said, and by Ilúvatar's rule, if there be so much as a hint of falsehood or omission, you shall answer dearly for it."

Her lower lip trembling, Silivren looked from her uncle to her father.

Berensul's face had gone dark and hard as well, but it was upon Silivren that his smoldering gaze fell. He beckoned his wife forward and said, "Thank you, Legolas. I shall do as you suggest. As for you, Daughter, I too caution you to mark what your uncle has said, if you value your position in this household. Now speak up, and choose your words carefully. What have you done?"

Legolas let himself out of the room, still trembling with anger. His chance to speak on this was over; now it fell to Berensul to learn of and deal with his daughter's misdeeds, and then—worse still—the king. Thranduil would not be able to ignore such an act, and nor would he. The consequences would fall heavy on Silivren.

Having vented his fury, he found as he wandered out of the halls that all that remained was a dreadful hurt. He and Silivren had always been very close. That she would act so vindictively against his friend pained him greatly. It had brought dishonor to her, to Legolas, to the realm, and their people out of some spite he had never known her to possess. Walking out into a patch of trees not destroyed by the fire, he cast himself down upon the grass.

Where _had_ she picked up such an attitude? Not from Berensul and Eirien, certainly! Perhaps when Silivren herself had been dealt with by the king, Legolas would suggest that he and Berensul question the captains and novice masters about certain aspects of their teaching. After all, certain predispositions and prejudices were normal and could not be combated, but what Legolas had seen in his young niece's eyes was something far deeper and troubling: hate. He did not want to imagine the child his brother had raised being capable of such a feeling.

"Legolas?"

He sat up. Coming into the clearing with him was Eirien, looking wan and frustrated. She settled into the grass, rubbing her eyes, and Legolas put a hand upon her shoulder. "What did she tell you?"

Eirien relayed it. To Legolas's immense relief, Silivren had not compounded her misconduct by attempting to lie or leave details out. When his niece's mother had finished, she buried her face in her hands. "Brother, I do not seek to condone what she did."

"I should hope not!" he exclaimed, anger still smoldering inside him.

"Nor to excuse it," Eirien continued. "Yet…there is something I must tell you. There had not been time before, and we…did not wish to distress you."

Throwing propriety to the wind, Legolas cast himself backward with a groan, staring up at the sky. "If it has to do with Silivren's behavior, I think I have been distressed anyway."

"Legolas, we did not know she would react like this to the presence of Master Gimli! She seemed to be coping well…"

"Gimli? Why would..." Legolas sat up again, feeling coldness settle in the pit of his stomach. "Tell me. What have you kept from me? Sili had an encounter with a dwarf?"

Eirien nodded miserably. "Did my husband tell you what befell her company outside Eryn Lasgalen?"

"He…mentioned it." No longer angry, Legolas was simply fearful. "How were dwarves involved?"

"More than half of the novices in Silivren's rank were in that company. That was when Gwilwileth and Ulban fell. When the horde burst out of the woods seeking escape from our forces, Gwilwileth's party was overwhelmed very swiftly. They tried to protect the novices, and sent Sili and two others for aid. But they were separated, and Silivren was cut off from the wood and gravely wounded. In desperation she turned east, seeking help from any she could find." Legolas's breath caught. He gripped her hand tightly as she swallowed hard and went on. "The first party she found was a group of dwarves, traders but well-armed. She called to them for aid and…they refused."

Legolas's stomach lurched. _No._ "Why?"

"They could hear the noise of the battle, but they told Silivren they would not risk themselves to help elves if she had nothing to offer them." Close to tears, Eirien went on, "There were a dozen of them; it might well have saved some of our people. But they dismissed her and went on their way. Sili rode on in search of help until Tingilinde fell from exhaustion and she swooned of her injuries. The searchers found her the next day."

Hot tears slid down Legolas's face. "I cannot believe it. I cannot believe anyone capable of such heartlessness." He turned to Eirien. "After such a thing—why was naught done for her? What was she doing sitting lessons and continuing her training as if nothing had happened?"

"We thought she was well!" Eirien cried, her fist pressed into her forehead. "But for the expected sadness and occasional shortness of temper, she seemed well! Her initial reaction to your friend…it seemed only natural. We did not know she felt such malice."

Legolas stifled a groan. _If more care had been taken after the attack, her grief and rage would not have been allowed to fester so, and this would never have happened!_

But he said not so aloud; Eirien had enough sorrow to contend with. And in any case, they had lost that opportunity. No matter what her reasons, Silivren had committed a serious breach of the king's edicts, and would now have to answer for it. "If only" would do none of them any good now.

It was simply too late.

* * *

_That same day, in the halls of Thorin II Stonehelm…_

"Ho, dwarves! Lorben's party is back!" Gimli, Frór, and Forin looked up from where they'd been discussing a map of the Glittering Caves.

"About time, too!" exclaimed Thorin, beckoning at the steward to send them in. "Never mind, Gimli, go on with your work while I hear the report from this lot."

"Yes, my lord," Gimli acknowledged, but motioned for the others to lower their voices as they continued poring over their plans. "As I was saying, if we widen the opening here, we'll have better access to this network of caverns, with little risk to the overall structure."

"You're sure this Rohirrim King will let us have them?" asked Frór, though he was practically drooling.

"Aye, this map was his, done by his forefathers over two hundred years ago! There may be need for changes depending on how the caves have fared, but—"

The door banged open as a company strode in with typical dwarvish boisterousness. "Welcome back, Lorben!" cried Thorin. Gimli wrinkled his nose. The time he'd spent in the sole company of Legolas had made him appreciative of quiet while working.

"My King!" The dwarf in the lead of the party bowed, followed by his companions.

"How went the trading?"

"Bah! Not as well as we'd hoped, I fear. The men were too nervous about the chaos in the forests to part with many supplies, but we got enough. And most of their crops were spared those orc migrations, if not the Easterling occupation," Lorben reported.

"Not too much damage, I hope. Is there to be an autumn harvest?" asked Thorin.

"It looks that way, my lord. They say the game's already coming back, though the grain may be a bit lean. 'Twas the elves who took the brunt of it," said Lorben. He snorted and waved a hand dismissively. "Small loss there."

Thorin glanced at Gimli, as did Frór and Forin, but the son of Glóin merely shook his head. If he were to bristle at every snide remark made about the Eldar by his kin, he would drive himself mad. And Lorben's sentiments were well known. Across the room, seated near the King, Glóin and Tili exchanged looks and grinned at Gimli, who snorted and went back to work.

Let them snigger at him if they liked. Those who went with him to Aglarond would be happy enough to deal with Legolas's people if it meant a steady trade in crops for metal, as he and the elf had contemplated on their way home.

"And you gave King Bard my message?" Thorin went on.

"Aye. For aid repairing the damage done by the Easterlings, they'll offer good pay. Bard's ambassador to the Gondorrhim King's crowning got back just before we left, and said supply trains were already starting under way. So they may not need aid as we'd thought, but then the trade'll be better."

"Either way, it works well for us," mused Thorin. "Good. And you say the Mirkwood elves took the brunt of it? Surely not the Easterlings, for most of them seemed determined to harry our gate."

By now Gimli and the others were quietly listening. Lorben shrugged. "Not the Easterlings, but it's said there was another army of elves coming up from the south that took Dol Guldur. Drove lots of Sauron's minions into the north and out of the wood, burned more than half the forest down. A good number of their warriors got caught by surprise by fleeing orcs and spiders."

Thorin glanced sidelong at Gimli, who nodded confirmation, though he felt ready to take Lorben and Broni to task for finding the tale so amusing. The deaths of warriors opposing Sauron and defending their home should not be cause for smiles. Apparently, for all his jesting at Gimli's expense, Thorin felt the same, for he spoke more gruffly than before. "Did you encounter any elves in Dale?"

Broni let out a loud bark of laughter, and Lorben shook his head. "Not in Dale itself, but just outside it, a few days after we left. Some elf warrior brat actually had the nerve to ask for aid when her company ran into trouble."

Gimli stiffened in shock. "And did you give it?" he demanded.

"Quiet!" said Thorin, waving Gimli down, but to Lorben, he ordered curtly, "Explain yourself. What happened with the elf company?"

Lorben shot Gimli a baffled look, but explained, "Well, we were traveling south and heard sounds of battle. Then one of their warrior-maids came racing along on her horse and started asking for help. Pathetic, it was! They don't seem so high and mighty when they're unarmed and begging and pleading with dwarves to aid them!"

Gimli started forward, a nasty suspicion forming in his mind, but Thorin motioned him back again. "Am I to take it you refused?"

"Well…of course! Why risk our skin to save a bunch of elves who were doomed anyway?"

"How can you be so certain; there were thirteen of you!" snapped Dwalin. It did gratify Gimli to see indignation growing on the faces of his kinsmen. "How close were you?"

"Close enough to see they were overrun; it wasn't worth it!" retorted Lorben. "Not for elves!"

"Nay, but for people fighting orcs, surely," said Frór. "What became of the orcs? Were they defeated?"

"We didn't stick around to find out," said Lorben stubbornly.

A few of the dwarves sprang to their feet, shouting protests to Thorin. He silenced them all with a bellow and rounded on Lorben. "You mean to tell me that you, a dwarf warrior and _my _representative, were approached for aid against orcs and _did nothing?_"

"They were elves!" Broni cried as if that were all the explanation needed. "And they were lost already; we could see that!"

"What of that warrior-maid?" Gimli put in. "Who was she?"

"How in Durin's name should I know?" demanded Lorben. "Unlike some amongst our people," he said with a sneer at Tili, "I've never been tempted by elf fairness, and this one wasn't so fair covered in dirt and blood."

Thorin and some of the others were frowning at Gimli, but he questioned Lorben again. "What day was this?"

The company exchanged glances, obviously wondering why it mattered so. "Two weeks and one day ago—what does it matter?" exclaimed Broni.

Gimli ignored him and turned to Thorin. "My lord, five days before my arrival here, a company of elves was all but massacred between Dale and Mirkwood. Only three survived, for the party was many of their novice warriors. Youngsters!" he declared, turning to face the other dwarves in the room. Nearly all of them were rising to their feet, outrage bright in their eyes. "I suffered a rather adverse encounter with one of them on the day I left Mirkwood, and could not comprehend why the elf would think me no better than an orc!" A furious mutter rippled through the room as he turned sharply back to Lorben's company. "Describe this maid!"

There was an uncomfortable silence as Lorben and the others looked at each other, then Thorin bellowed, "Speak up!"

Therik grunted. "Fair hair. And blue eyes. Tall."

"What became of her?" demanded Thorin.

No longer meeting his eyes, Lorben shrugged. "When we wouldn't run into their battle, she rode off."

Dwalin, standing beside Glóin and Tili, called to Gimli. "Was this the maid you met? You know who she was?"

Seething, Gimli replied, "I think it more than likely, and a fine mess you've landed us in, Lorben! That girl was the elven king's granddaughter!"

The room burst into conversation, but Lorben cried, "There!" as though vindicated. "Why should we care what happens to Thranduil's spawn? Would you have had us go scampering off to risk life and limb fighting foes at the behest of some brat of his?"

Gimli's fists balled, and he very nearly stormed to the center of the room to smash Lorben's face. But he was stopped short by Thorin Stonehelm's voice, quiet and strangely calm. "Aye, Lorben Paunson. If a wounded warrior or villager, man or elf cried for aid from the axes of the dwarves against the minions of Sauron, that is _precisely_ what I would have expected of you, as one of our proud race and as one of my ambassadors. Now I see my expectations have been sorely let down."

Gimli thought of the look in the princess's eyes when she'd cast him from the king's halls, and this time felt a surge of pity. _Poor girl. Poor mad little minx. Twisted as badly as Lorben now. I only hope Legolas can sort you out._

Lorben gaped, then muttered something about, "Taking that elven king's side _again_!"

"Speak up, Lorben! You've much yet to explain!" snapped Thorin.

Shaking with anger, the son of Paun growled, "This is the second time I've had my own people take the side of that accursed elven king against me! I thought that girl looked like him, and that was all the more reason not to give her the time of day!"

Thorin blinked, and looked at Gimli, who shrugged, having no idea what Lorben meant. But Dwalin did. "My son Naldin told me of that after the mission to survey Moria many years ago, Lord King! Lorben here seems to think that dwarven honor does not apply in the presence of elves. He extorted a trinket from one of Thranduil's sons as the price for aid in saving an elf after a cave-in!"

"What?!"

"Aye!" snapped Lorben, his pride thoroughly dented. "After all my family suffered in the battle for this very place, it seemed the least the brat could do was part with an honest payment for aiding his friend! Only then I had it stolen by Naldin!"

"Confiscated!" retorted Dwalin. "You 'bargained' the thing from the elf even as one of his comrades was in danger of being crushed! No dwarf with honor would act so even against the elven king himself! Naldin was right to seize it!"

"Bah!" Lorben spat at him. "Everyone on that trip except myself and these lads," he waved at Broni and Therik, "was enamored of those elves! Barely a year after the Battle, and already we were breaking bread with them."

"Which son was it?" Gimli demanded over the shouting of the other dwarves in response.

"I don't remember, nor do I care, another fair-haired one!"

Silence gradually settled, and the dwarves all exchanged glances, watching for Gimli's reaction. Someone muttered, "Thranduil's only got one fair-haired son."

Even Thorin was waiting for what Gimli would say. The dwarf in question stared at Lorben, his thoughts consumed with icy fury. "Legolas," he breathed. "You robbed Legolas."

"Like the elven king's brat suffered for the loss of one pearl!" Lorben snorted, and Gimli was already turning toward Thorin—otherwise he would have seen Glóin's jaw drop.

"My lord, an emissary must be sent to the elven king in Mirkwood," Gimli said to his king. "Such actions as this would demand satisfaction if they had been committed against our people, and our honor demands that we do the same for them!" Nods followed, and calls of assent rang out.

"At least we have you to do it," Thorin remarked. "This Walker friend of yours may prove useful to us after all. Are we agreed then?" he asked the assembly, which by now had grown very large—and very angry. A great shout of approval was his answer. "Very well." He pointed at Lorben. "You were the one in charge of the company to Dale, therefore you are the one responsible for the refusal of aid to those wounded elves. And am I to take it that it was you who robbed that princeling all those years ago?" Lorben scowled and said nothing. Thorin was incensed. "You're stripped of your titles and possessions, Lorben son of Paun! I've half a mind to shave you beard off! You will wait here in Erebor under arrest while Lord Gimli—my new ambassador since you've proven so hopelessly incompetent—visits the elven king. We will send to him that we have learned of your actions and denounce them, and then he, the elven king, shall decide your fate. If he demands your wealth, he shall have it. If he demands your presence in Mirkwood to be tried for the deaths of those elf younglings, he shall have that. If he demands your _head_, I will see it delivered! You've dishonored us all! Now get out of my sight!"

As two dwarven guards hauled the furiously-cursing Lorben toward the door, a thought occurred to Gimli, and he cried, "My lord! We must search the stores Naldin brought back for this pearl, to be returned to its rightful owner!"

A contemptuous shout made them turn back toward Lorben, who had paused in the threshold. "Gimli, you elf-besotted fool, you're as dense as raw iron! Naldin gave my pearl to Dáin, who gave it to Glóin in tribute when Balin's people left, and your sire fashioned a ring of it!"

"What?!" Gimli exclaimed.

Lorben laughed at him. "You've got the elf princeling's pearl, you deaf-wit! It's on your right hand!"

_**To be continued…**_

_**Next week: **__The elven king and his family must put aside the bonds of love to force Silivren to answer for her violation of their trust, but when Gimli returns to Thranduil's halls, they must all face what Lorben's callousness has done to Silivren's mind. Bitter hurts and old debts are finally acknowledged in __**Chapter Four: That Which Has Come To Light**_

**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!!!**


	4. That Which Has Come To Light

**_A/N:_**_ Many thanks again, dear readers, for all your reviews! I love reading your emotional reactions to the story's events and your theories about what is to come. Please keep sending them!_

**Chapter Four: That Which Has Come To Light**

_Two days later, in the elven king's halls…_

In the great hall with pillars hewn out of living stone sat the elven king in his chair of carven wood. On his head was a crown of berries and red leaves, for it was autumn now. In his hand he held a carven staff of oak. It was well known that his appearance in full formal robes and crown in his audience hall was enough to cow even the most surly of mortals or foreign ambassadors. It was less known that within his own kingdom, audiences such as this were enough to intimidate even the proudest of his own people, should they be the one to come under the full power of his baleful stare.

At the moment, even though the stare was not directed at him, Legolas Thranduilion, dressed in his formal tunic of silver-blue with a mithril circlet in his hair, found it difficult to keep his knees from trembling. In the great hall, many rows of cushioned benches stood to make places for elves to assemble, and in the front, they gave way to rows of carven chairs, reserved for the elven king's family. A wide aisle split the rows into two great sections, ending with a large open space directly before the dais on which stood the throne of Greenwood, now Eryn Lasgalen.

The benches and chairs were mostly empty. Legolas stood alone in the front-most chair closest to the center in the right-hand section. Directly across from him, one chair from the aisle, his sister-in-law Eirien waited, fair and graceful in her gown of lavender silk, the mithril crown gleaming in her brown hair, but her face was pale and drawn, and her eyes were red-rimmed. On her right, seated in the chair directly alongside the aisle, sat her husband, Berensul, the crown prince of Eryn Lasgalen, whose fair formal raiment was likewise dulled by a face filled with sorrow and anxiety. But for all those fears were shared by every elf in the room—including, it could not be doubted, the one on the throne—facts were facts. There was naught to do now but face them.

The elven king gestured lightly, and his sons and daughter-in-law rose in unison. "Lord Berensul. Send for your daughter."

Berensul bowed and went back up the aisle to the doors, quietly opening them. Even the dull _thump_ seemed to echo in the empty room. The entire corridor that housed the entrance to the king's audience hall had been closed this day. Legolas was certain that his heart could be heard thumping in his chest as his brother's quiet words to the elf waiting without drifted into the room. "Come."

Preceding her father back into the room was Lady Silivren, princess of Eryn Lasgalen, directly in the line of succession to the throne. But today, she came before the elven king accused of an act which might well strip her of all privileges of rank. Legolas watched, biting the inside of his mouth . Silivren was composed, in a gown of green velvet with a belt of gold, and a circlet of gold in her hair. As was proper, she stopped just within the threshold, with her father directly behind her, while the doors thumped closed again.

Thranduil rose. The elven king doted in Siliven—they all did—but a breach of law had occurred that must be answered in accordance with those laws. Silivren's position as beloved in the family would gain her no quarter today. Thranduil's face was hard as the stone walls. "Advance."

She did so, steadily and calmly. Had she been before the king for any other reason, Legolas would have been proud of her. A single chair had been set in the space directly before the dais, where the accused maiden would be seated while the king reviewed the events, but before the inquiry was over, she would be on her knees. Of that Legolas had no doubt. She reached the chair and waited in front of it for his order. "Sit."

Berensul, returning to his own seat, looked white as a wraith. Thranduil nodded to them, and they were all seated again. Silivren was still under the king's hot stare. "Silivren Berensuliel, you are charged this day with knowing and willful abuse of authority as a daughter of the House of Oropher. It is charged that two weeks prior, you knowingly and unlawfully revoked the hospitality of these halls from a guest upon whom it had been expressly bestowed by Berensul Thranduilion. That you knowingly and unlawfully commanded guards of the halls and servants of the household in carrying out this act. That you knowingly and unlawfully made threats against a guest of these halls. You are ordered now to answer for these charges."

Across from Legolas, beyond Berensul, Eirien appeared to have slumped in her chair, and Berensul was gripping her hand tightly. The elven king paused, watching Silivren's face, but her eyes were fixed upon the foot of the dais and did not rise. Whether it was insolence or despair, Legolas could not say, and feared that his father could not say either. With no outward expression that would reveal his own mind, Thranduil lifted a hand, and the doors opened. "Let Hallion Nathronion and Criston Glanaurion, guards of Eryn Lasgalen, enter!"

The two guards, not much younger than Legolas and highly intimidated, came side-by-side into the audience hall, stopping several paces behind Silivren, who did not turn around. "Are you prepared to recount the events in the main corridor of the halls two weeks prior?" asked Thranduil.

"We are, my lord," said Hallion and Criston together, bowing simultaneously.

"Were you assigned sentry duty on that day in the entry-way of the halls?"

"Aye, my lord."

"Did you see the Lady Silivren speak to Gimli of Erebor that day?"

"Aye."

"Recount what she said."

The two guards exchanged nervous glances, then Hallion cleared his throat and spoke up. "The princess met Master Gimli in the corridor, and told him that the way east was clear to Erebor, and that it was safe to travel. Then she told him it was time he took his leave."

"Did Master Gimli answer her?"

"Nay, my lord, he said nothing. Then the princess ordered us to escort him to the eastern border. Then Master Gimli said he did not have his gear, and the princess summoned a servant to bring it to him."

"How long did that take?"

"Not a minute, my lord."

"So the servant was already accompanying Lady Silivren with Gimli the dwarf's gear."

"Aye, my lord."

Legolas felt sick. It had truly been an eviction. _How could she?_ "What happened then?" Thranduil went on.

"The princess spoke to Criston, and we escorted Master Gimli from Eryn Lasgalen."

"Criston, what did she say to you?"

"She bade me warn Master Gimli never to return to Eryn Lasgalen…or it would be the worse for him."

"And did you do as she ordered?"

"Aye, my lord." Criston dared one sideways glance at Legolas and swiftly looked away.

The elven king nodded slowly, his eyes coming down to rest on Silivren for several moments. "Lady Silivren, have you any questions to ask of the guards?"

Silivren's voice was barely audible. "I do not."

Thranduil's shoulders seemed to slump just the slightest, as if grieved. "Very well. You may go." The doors opened. "Let Galithil Eregdosiel, warrioress of Imladris and Eryn Lasgalen, enter!"

Galithil came into the chamber and waited for Hallion and Criston to pass before approaching the throne. She too stopped behind Silivren. "Mistress, were you witness to the events two weeks prior in the main corridor of the halls?"

"I was, my lord."

"You witnessed the Lady Silivren sending Gimli the dwarf forth from Eryn Lasgalen?"

"I did."

"Tell me, by what authority did the princess give orders to the guards and servant…and Master Gimli?"

"She spoke not directly of her authority."

"But was it your impression that she had it?"

"Aye, my lord."

"As a trained warrioress of Eryn Lasgalen and Imladris, was it your impression that the Lady Silivren acted in exercise of her authority as a daughter of the House of Oropher?"

Galithil swallowed. "It was, my lord."

Thranduil nodded slowly. "Lady Silivren. Have you any questions for the daughter of Eregdos?"

"I do."

Thranduil was the only one in the room who did not jump. _Sili__! Sili, what are you doing?!_ Legolas thought in anguish. But it was his niece's right, and there was naught he could do to dissuade her. So he bit his lip as Thranduil beckoned Galithil forward, to stand directly in front of him, facing Silivren. "Rise and speak," he ordered his granddaughter.

The soft rustle of velvet against the wood of the chair seemed to roar in the silent chamber as Silivren stood. Pinning Galithil in a hard blue gaze worthy of Thranduil, she asked, "How did you come to be in the entry of the halls at the same time as Master Gimli?"

Legolas exchanged a baffled look with Berensul. What was her aim? Taking a deep breath, Galithil replied, "I went to speak with Master Gimli."

"About what?"

_Oh, Silivren, please, no!_ She could not seriously think to prejudice Galithil's words by suggesting some collusion with Gimli! But it swiftly became clear to Legolas that that was precisely what his niece's aim was.

For as soon as Galithil replied, "To enquire after one of his kinsmen, whom I met during an expedition long ago," Silivren glanced past Galithil at Thranduil as though to drive her point home that Galithil's words were not to be relied upon.

With the faintest air of smugness, Silivren concluded, "I have nothing more, my lord."

Legolas was on his feet before he knew what he was doing. "I would beg leave to ask a question, my lord."

Thranduil was startled, and Silivren turned to look at Legolas, but he held his father's gaze. Thranduil slowly nodded, and Galithil returned to the original place behind Silivren's chair. Legolas turned to her. "Have you given any oath of the truthfulness of your words, daughter of Eregdos?"

"No, my lord," said Galithil with a puzzled frown.

"Will you do so now?" he asked her.

Warmth flashed in her eyes when she realized his aim. "Without hesitation, my lord."

Legolas turned toward his father, who asked, "Galithil Eregdosiel, bearer of arms for Eryn Lasgalen and Imladris, do you swear on pain of death that the testimony you have given this day is truthful and complete as best you know?"

"On my duty to my lord and king, upon my very life, so do I swear," said Galithil.

The elven king's eyes were respectful as he told her, "You may go."

Legolas let his breath out softly, and notice Silivren staring at him. Her eyes were bright with the two emotions he felt least able to face in her: hurt and betrayal. _Ai, child, why can you not see that it is your lust for vengeance that has led you here? The wounds and sorrows need not destroy your soul!_

* * *

_In another part of the elven king's halls…_

Walking past the guards barring the way into the corridor leading to the elven king's audience hall, Galithil wanted nothing more than to crawl to her chamber and have a good weep followed closely by a good sleep. When she had first gone to Legolas, she had not realized that he was yet unaware of the part dwarves had played in Silivren's failed search for help on the day of the attack. Had she known it had been kept from him, she would have told him herself.

Silivren's relative calm in the wake of the catastrophe had worried many among the elven king's guard, but it had been assumed that the household healers were seeing to her needs. But what Galithil had seen in the audience chamber told her that whatever actions had been taken to ease the burdens on the young elf's soul, it had not been enough. The maiden to Galithil seemed as an ornament of glass, its edges already chipped and sharp enough to draw blood, but in danger of shattering at any moment into a million shards.

_It would be such a tragedy if she were to go over the sea now, when the shadow of Sauron is finally dispelled. Too many of our number have already gone or will soon go._

Raised voices brought Galithil out of her maudlin thoughts. Walking to the central corridor to see what it was, she discovered the tall figures of several guards silhouetted against the sun streaming in from the open doors. In front of them, his path barred by their spears, was a figure far too short and stout to be any elf.

"Master Gimli!" she cried and rushed to meet him.

The dwarf blinked as the doors were closed, and gave her a quick bow. "Mistress Galithil. Pleased to see you again. Perhaps you might explain to your comrades that as ambassador for Lord Thorin Stonehelm, King Under the Mountain, I'm entitled to be admitted, as I've an urgent communication for your elven king."

The guards were novices, looking to Galithil at once for orders. Word had passed through Thranduil's halls that the Lady Silivren had ordered Gimli not to return, but it was also known that she had been charged with abusing her authority by giving the order. Galithil took control, praying she herself would not wind up facing charges. "Let him pass."

Murmuring amongst themselves, the guards stood aside, and Gimli strode toward Galithil. "My Lady, I would be obliged if you would lead me to your king. I bring an urgent message from my Lord Thorin."

Galithil's mind raced. It was a great risk to disturb the proceedings in the audience chamber but…they directly concerned Master Gimli. _And Valar help me._ She straightened. "Follow me." He did so, and she walked straight and purposefully back to the hall leading to the audience chamber.

The guards there were not novices. "None are to enter the chamber save those who are parties in the trial. The dwarf cannot pass."

"Stand aside. He can. He is a party in the matter before the king."

"But—"

"As am I!" she snapped. Gimli watched behind her, bemused, as she took a deep breath. "I take responsibility for King Thorin's ambassador. But I shall bring him before the king. Now."

The guards exchanged glances, then slowly moved out of her way. To Gimli, she said, "Come."

They went down the corridor in silence. As she knew it would, the dwarf's curiosity got the better of him. "Your king holds a trial?"

"Aye, Lord Gimli. Concerning the unlawful revocation of his hospitality to a guest," she replied. When they reached the door, and the very startled guards, she turned sharply to him. "Mark me, Master Dwarf. I risk much bringing you here without my elven lord's leave, but you are a party to this trial. Remain directly before me, and speak not until he speaks to you."

She had expected the dwarf to take serious offense at such orders, but to her surprise, Gimli simply nodded. "I will follow your lead, Lady, and thank you for your pains."

Well. Perhaps Sháin was not the fluke of nature that her friends had always claimed. Come to think of it…had it not been Legolas who always said so? With that small sparkle of hope like the first star of twilight, Galithil stood before the elven king's audience chamber and threw open the doors.

* * *

There were only five elves seated at the very front of that massive assembly hall, and all of them sprang to their feet as the doors opened before Gimli.

The elven king, his hand grasping his staff of wood, looked torn between surprise and outrage, while the crown prince and princess seated on the left looked shocked. The elf maid in the center of the hall seemed to radiate fury upon seeing him, but it was Legolas, standing alone to her right, whose surprise gave way to delight. "Gimli!"

"_Silence!_" barked Thranduil.

Gimli minded Galithil's warnings and said nothing. The elven king's stance was enough to humble even him at the moment. Thranduil strode down from the dais upon which his chair stood, stepping closer to the maiden in green. Her chest heaved with deep breaths as her entire body trembled with rage. For her, however, Gimli felt mostly pity. He feared that her kin did not yet realize the depths to which Lorben's actions had driven her.

Thranduil put a hand on Silivren's shoulder and pulled her swiftly from his path, leaving her next to her parents while he faced the unexpected arrivals. With a contemptuous glance at Gimli, he snapped in Westron, "Explain yourself, Eregdosiel."

Gimli did not turn around as Galithil spoke up from behind him. "My Lord, I present Gimli, son of Glóin, ambassador for Thorin Stonehelm, King under the Mountain. He comes with an urgent message from his king, and as a party in this matter, I bade the guards grant him admittance."

"You _what?!_" Thranduil roared, and Gimli saw Legolas flinch. "I _believe_, Lady, that it is for _me_ to grant admittance to this chamber!" Galithil made no sound, and Gimli dared not turn to look at her, but after glaring at her for several moments, the elven king ordered. "Leave us."

Gimli wondered if the order was also meant for him, but he did not move, and when the elf warrioress's presence behind him had gone and the doors swung closed again, Thranduil merely stared at him. But then… "What's that thing doing here?"

_"Sili!"_ hissed the Lady Eirien.

"Quiet!" snapped Thranduil. He turned back to Gimli. "I would know myself how you came to be here again, Gimli, son of Glóin. But not now. The daughter of Eregdos is correct, it is your right." Silivren all but blazed with ire and disgust, as though the sight of Gimli offended and revolted her beyond endurance. Thranduil ignored her and went on. "My granddaughter unlawfully violated your trust as a guest, and unlawfully revoked the hospitality of my house. If you would speak on this matter, do so now. If you have nothing to say, then step outside and let us conclude, unless this message you bring concerns life and death."

Gimli pondered the offer. He had not expected this. But now that it was open, perhaps…this was just the time. Keeping his eyes off Legolas was an effort, but he met the elven king's hard, bitter gaze. _He concedes my rights under his own laws, but he despises my presence nearly as much as the girl._

Aloud, Gimli said, "My message relates closely to this matter, Lord King. And by your leave, I would speak for the princess."

The elven maid in question reacted as though she had been struck. Her parents and Legolas exchanged startled glances, and even Thranduil blinked. "You ask for lenience on her behalf?"

Carefully, Gimli replied, "I know not the laws of your realm, my Lord. But I would offer information that has come to light in the halls of Thorin Stonehelm, and at his bidding, let you make what response or demands as you will."

Thranduil slowly returned to his throne and sat, although he did not order Lady Silivren back to her seat. Perhaps he thought the restraint of her father's hands upon her shoulders a wise precaution. "Advance and speak, then."

Gimli came only halfway down the room to the throne, for something in the princess's stance warned him that she was not as under control as her father thought. Before this day was over, the dwarf feared the elves would discover just how mad the girl really was. He had never forgotten the look in her eyes two weeks before. It had been very out of place in the eyes of an elf. He forced himself to remember his own mission, and spoke.

"My Lord King, Thorin Stonehelm, bids me carry this message to Thranduil of Mirkwood. He has learned that an elven war company suffered grievous losses on the outskirts of Mirkwood, and that one of their party called for the aid of a dwarf. The dwarves of Erebor grieve that this call went unanswered by those who should have acted swiftly on our behalf." Thranduil leaned forward in his seat, and Legolas was wide-eyed. Gimli dared not look at his friend. "Inquiries have been made, and I bring to the elven king the name of the dwarf responsible. He is Lorben, son of Paun, and the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain have renounced him as their own."

Thranduil rose slowly to his feet. Gimli found it difficult to breathe, for out of the corner of his eye, he saw the color drain from Legolas's face. The elf remembered Lorben. That much was clear. The crown prince looked shaken, his hands still clutching his daughter's shoulders. "It was this dwarf who…"

Gimli nodded. "I had it from his own mouth, my Lord."

"And his fate?"

"That is for you to decide, O King." Thranduil blinked again. Gimli explained, "My king bids me say to you that your word as regards Lorben shall seal his fate. He is dishonored and denounced by his kin, under arrest until you tell us what you desire for him. If you demand his property, you shall have it. If you wish his presence in Mirkwood to stand trial for the deaths of your people, we shall bring him to you in chains. If you desire his head," Gimli allowed himself a faint, droll smile, "I shall bring it to you on a platter."

_"Murderers!"_

"Silivren!" Thranduil's head turned sharply toward his granddaughter as Berensul attempted to snatch her back.

But that blaze of malice was back in the girl's eyes, and Gimli knew that even bringing Lorben's head to lay at her feet would not put it out. He recalled that it was Legolas whose name meant "green leaf," but that was the image in his mind as the elf maid advanced in her green dress, for she shook like a leaf, being torn from its branch in a violent wind. "You think you can hide your people's crimes with this sop?" she spat at him. "You _presume_ to speak for me!"

"Silence, child! Now!" Thranduil snapped, but this time, she did not obey him.

She may not have even heard him. The princess looked at Gimli as though he were the Mouth of Sauron. "Get thee back to thy orc-caves, Filth! I saw what your people are that day, spawn of orcs! Creatures of—"

_"Be quiet!"_ the elven king roared.

_"NO!"_ she shrieked, whirling on her grandfather with such fury that she avoided her father's attempt to seize her. "You who call yourself my kin, _you let this creature here again!?_ _After what they did to us?_ _Traitors, the lot of you, traitors!"_

The princess's mother finally broke out of her stupor and flung herself at the girl with a sob even as Silivren lunged into the aisle toward Gimli. Legolas leapt to stop her, but Berensul caught her other arm, and her parents dragged her back even as her shrieks turned to screams of sheer hysteria. _"Murderers! Beasts, creatures of Sauron, allies of the orcs, you let them kill us! Monsters!"_

Legolas stood with his arms half-outstretched, his mouth open in horror. Even Thranduil seemed thunderstruck until he finally blurted, "Take her out of here! Get her out!"

It took the efforts of both parents to drag Silivren back, and nothing they said could be heard over her screamed curses at Gimli. The dwarf had no doubt that if she managed to get loose, she would attempt to tear his throat out. With no small effort, he stood still and outwardly dispassionate as the elves dragged the hysterical princess to a small door which Gimli had not noticed until Legolas ran to it and threw it open. Berensul and Eirien hauled their daughter through, and Legolas slammed it closed, falling against it as though about to weep.

_Poor elf. Can't blame him, considering he gets back to find his home burnt down, both legs broken, and his niece mad._

The elven king was silent, slowly righting the chair in the center of the room that his grandchild had knocked over in her fit. Gimli cleared his throat. Thranduil looked at him with bleak eyes. "I will consider your words, Master Dwarf, and inform you of my decision."

"On behalf of my king, my lord, is there aught that…"

"I thank you, Master Dwarf," said Thranduil. "You have done quiet enough." The implication was clear. The doors opened, and Gimli saw that Galithil had remained without. "See to the dwarf's needs," the king ordered. Then he jerked his head at Legolas, and with a helpless expression, Gimli's friend followed the elven king out the other door.

It closed with a hollow thud, and Gimli was left standing in the aisle of the huge chamber, feeling as if he had somehow let Legolas down. He knew Legolas would not be so cold as to blame Gimli for his niece's condition and yet…_I wouldn't blame him if he decided not to come to Erebor after all. Lorben's brought him nothing but grief._

"Master Gimli?" said Galithil softly behind him. He sighed, and heard her steps coming down to his side. "Come. There is naught more you can do here."

* * *

As weary and disheartened as Legolas felt, walking with his father down the corridor toward their family's quarters, shouts brought his heart speeding up again, and he ran with Thranduil down the hall. They found Eirien on her knees, weeping, and Berensul wild-eyed, shouting at the guards. "What happened? Where is she?"

"She fought us," Legolas's brother half-sobbed. "She was cursing the dwarves and us, blaming everyone—she got away." Legolas's gaze was drawn to Eirien, noticing for the first time her torn sleeve, and a long scratch on her arm.

"She can't be," Eirien kept whispering as if in shock. "She cannot be…"

"Call out all the guard!" shouted Thranduil. "Find her! Do not hurt her if it can be avoided, but keep her from harming herself or any other!"

"Aye, my lord!" cried another of the warriors, and they raced away. Without hesitation, Legolas dashed after them.

It echoed in his mind, the sound of her screams, as he bolted from the halls. He knew not precisely where he was going, only that he was seeking her out of doors. A horrible thought occurred to him that Silivren might seek to reach Gimli, but had she tried, the guards would have caught her already. In great distress, every elf's instinct was to be outside.

He raced along the river, and had gone far from the halls until it even dawned on him that he was going toward one of her favorite old places to run and play as a child. Slowing, he forced himself to calm down and focus. He knelt upon the ground, seeking any sign of her. An elf maid in such a frenzy would have left a trail. He scanned the bank and the grass—there! He had found her trail. So he was right—she had come this way. Perhaps it was on instinct alone; when she was upset, she had used to run off to her old hiding place.

Except that that old grove of trees was completely gone from the fire. All the same, she had gone there, and Legolas ran after her. In such a state, she could not move so very fast.

Before long, the sounds of ragged breathing reached his ears, and he pressed his legs to carry him ever faster. He burst from the last of the living wood and into the charred forest, following a trail of dust from fleeing feet and kicking up a larger one of his own. It made him cough, and his legs ached, but he ran harder. The thought of Silivren harming herself made him sick with fear. It could not happen now, not after everything had finally—

He burst through another cloud of ash, and her fleeing green and gold figure appeared to his smarting eyes. Abandoning all reserve, Legolas simply tackled her. She screamed like a mad thing, but he held on, and the momentum threw them both to the ground. Silivren kicked and clawed at him, half-formed curses bursting from her in what seemed nothing but continuous screams in his ears, the cries of a tortured soul.

Legolas held on for dear life and simply refused to release her, mindless of the scratches and bruises she inflicted, the throbbing in his recently-healed legs, and the ash clogging his lungs and covering their garments. It would do no good to speak to her, he could sense that. So he merely squeezed his eyes shut and held on while she fought.

Silivren was a trained warrioress, and very strong, but he was stronger, thank the Valar, and it was a fight she could not win. At length, that reality dawned upon her, and her attacks suddenly ceased as she strained against him and let out one great wail of anguish and rage, then dissolved into furious sobs in his arms. Legolas softened his grip as much as he dared, and held her in his arms, rocking gently.

"I am sorry," he whispered into her ear as she raged. "I am so sorry. I didn't know."

"I hate you!" she roared through her tears, and he flinched. "I hate you! I hate him! I hate them! _I hate all of you, I hate them all, I hate…I hate m…"_ she collapsed against him. _"No, no, no!"_

"Silivren…"

_"No!"_ she shrieked, wrenching away. He held onto her, and she hissed, "Do not dare to tell me I do not mean it! I do, I do, I wish them dead, _I wish them all dead, I wish…_"

"I know," he murmured, closing his eyes as tears slid down. He did know it. There was no doubt, and that was what grieved him still more. He had no doubt that she meant it. She would kill Gimli herself if allowed near him. And then seek her own death.

Shouts and running feet indicated the guards had found them. Silivren clung to him and refused to look up. When the other elves arrived, he said quietly, "Leave us. The situation is under control. Tell the king."

"My lord, we—"

"I said, leave us." The guards exchanged glances, then obeyed.

Silivren had ended her struggles, her fine gown soiled gray with dirt and torn from her flight through the wood. Her hair hung in tangles and mats, filthy with ash. She shook in Legolas's grasp, and he held her close to him, fearful to speak, listening to her ragged breaths.

They remained thus, in silence, for what seemed a long time, though it could not have been so very long or Thranduil would have grown impatient and intervened. But after a while, her trembling ceased, and she lay still in his arms. "I want him dead," she said in a surprisingly steady voice.

Legolas pondered how best to answer, then said carefully, "Father may order it, as Lorben's fate has been left to him. When you are recovered, he may well ask your thoughts on it." It was a deliberate choice on his part, to assume she was referring to Lorben—though in his heart, he was not at all certain that was the dwarf she wished to slay.

His fears were partly confirmed when she replied, "I want them all dead."

"For what they did to you, kinswoman, I would gladly see their entire party cast into Orodruin," Legolas said, with feeling. But again, he knew she did not mean only the party that had refused her cry for aid with such depraved indifference.

She sat half-up, as much as she was able, for he refused to lessen his grip on her, and looked him in the eyes, her cold, ugly demeanor returned. "Do you think me mad, Uncle? Will you and the others pet me and promise to make it better?" She was all but sneering.

It took an effort to return that gaze, so alien and disturbing it was to Legolas. But he did, and replied steadily, "I think you are in terrible pain, Niece, and that you have forgotten much in your pain. I think you have forgotten who you are."

She spat. "You patronize me!"

"I do no such thing!" he shot back, and decided to meet her fury with some heat of his own. "Fear not, Berensuliel, I do not think you mad. You knew full well what you were doing two weeks ago, although I wonder at your bent of mind just now in the throne room." She scowled, but dropped her eyes. He softened his stance. "But in truth, I know too that you are no monster. And this look of hate and malice I see in you is not your true self. Neither I nor any other who loves you will accept that."

His words struck home, and he felt the faintest shudder from her. "I have seen bitter wrongs, Sili, and I have burned with rage and grief and desire to see them avenged. You will find few of our race who have not come under such sickness in grief. It takes great time and struggle not to be consumed by it, but I will not allow you thus lost. Nor will any other of your family."

She sucked in a great breath through her teeth, a hissing gasp of pain, and her body strained back in his arms as though struggling against a dreadful wound. "I don't want him here! I don't want to see any of them again!"

"That was never for you to decide, Niece."

Turning her dirty face toward him, bright-eyed, her teeth bared, she hissed, "How do you defend them to me?"

"I do not defend the ones who wronged us," Legolas replied, forcing himself calm. "I defend my friend of the Fellowship."

"It was not he who destroyed the Ring!" Silivren protested.

"Had he not been of the Company, the Quest would not have succeeded, child, and I will make you comprehend this one day!" Legolas pushed her shoulders back so she was arms-length from him. "Among the Nine Walkers strode all of the free peoples of Middle Earth—_all _of them, Silivren. Nor was I the one who destroyed the Ring."

She no longer struggled, and her eyes fixed on his, wide with dismay and confusion, yet still teeming with grief and rage. He stared her down, painfully aware that it would be a very long time before she could fully comprehend his meaning, or even think of any dwarf, Gimli in particular, without bitter resentment.

But, at length, she wilted. Closing her eyes, she muttered, "I have dreamt of naught but revenge since that day."

"Such dreams are normal to a point," he told her. "But it is time we gave you else to dream of." Only when that lust had been overcome could he hope to turn her from believing that all dwarves were represented by the actions of Lorben, he knew that, though it pained him. After all, he himself had once entertained such a thought, for a very long time. And his experience at that dwarf's cold hands had not been a fraction of the blood and horror that his niece had faced.

She looked up at him, clearly weary and worn. He brushed ash from her hair. "What is to become of me?"

"That will depend upon many things."

They both turned to see Thranduil entering the burnt-out clearing, unaccompanied. Silivren stiffened only slightly in Legolas's grasp, and he forewent rising in favor of keeping his grip on her. The elven king paid it no notice and knelt before the two of them, taking in their appearances. "Are you hurt?" he asked Silivren.

"No, sire," she murmured, closing her eyes and bowing her head. Legolas shook his head in response to Thranduil's inquiring glance, although his legs hurt. Thranduil was silent for a moment, then slowly raised a hand to her face, lightly stroking at the ash on her cheek, although it did little more than smudge the marks further. Silivren began trembling again, but she did not pull away.

"Your parents are very anxious for you. Come. Let us restore you to them and ease their fears." Silivren did not protest as the elven king pulled her to her feet, but then she raised fearful eyes to his. Quietly, he answered her unspoken question. "We shall revisit your actions, and the consequences, but later. When you are well."

Legolas's presence was not sought, so he stayed where he was as Thranduil escorted his granddaughter back toward the halls. They were rejoined by guards after only a few strides, but the elven king kept Silivren under his arm, as though she were wounded or ailing, which in truth, Legolas supposed with a great swell of grief, she was. She would, they all knew, have to answer for her misconduct, but first, they would look to her health of mind.

* * *

In the chaos and outcry that followed his departure from the elven king's throne room, Gimli found himself inadvertently abandoned by Galithil. It took no great thought to determine that the king's granddaughter, in her madness, had escaped the hands of her family, and Gimli trailed after the guards making for the main doors, keeping a wary eye out for the girl. His heart twisted with great pity for her—well, more for Legolas and for her parents, truth be told—but he had little doubt that given the opportunity, the elf princess might seek the life of any dwarf in her lust for vengeance.

Gimli did not doubt that he could avoid injury at her hands, given her frenzied and careless state, elf or not, but he would not willingly harm any kin of Legolas's while it could be avoided, and if that meant calling to the elven king's guards for aid and retreating should the mad maid approach, he would do so.

Before long, he found himself outside the elven king's halls, for this time the doors were opened so frequently that it was simple enough for him to slip out with the guards. And obviously this time he had not been denied free exit.

He spotted the warrioress Galithil and her husband in a milling group of guards, and moved toward them. She beckoned him to her side. "We have been ordered to wait here for the time being, Master Dwarf. My apologies for leaving you."

"None necessary, Mistress. I understand." Gimli decided that discretion dictated no mention of the emergency, or the state of the elf maid who had caused it. The other elven guards exchanged awkward glances. "Have you…seen Legolas?"

Galithil nodded and made the slightest gesture with her head in the direction where most of the other elves were gazing. Ah. So Legolas must have found the girl. That eased Gimli's mind, for he had great faith in his friend's wisdom to deal with the girl's troubles, although he supposed there was no real basis in their shared experience for such faith. Gimli knew little of Legolas's relationship with his family, but nonetheless, he firmly felt that once Legolas had her, his troubled niece would be in safe hands.

After some time, the elves stirred, and Galithil abruptly stepped around Gimli. "Begging your pardon," she muttered, and the other elves likewise moved to block any view of him from the bridge.

Gimli said nothing, and heard the murmurings of the elves as a number of them came walking by. Through a gap in the small group, he saw the elven king's back, and that of very dirty, disheveled maiden close at his side. They were moving slowly back into the halls, and she no longer seemed out of her mind, although her shoulders slumped wearily. Gimli did not move until the doors closed again, and heard many breaths let out.

Galithil stepped aside from him with an apologetic and wry smile, which he returned knowingly. Many of the other guards, now that the crisis had ended, were also returning to the halls, but he saw no sign of Legolas. "Where…"

Galithil too frowned, peering through the smoky air, but her elven eyes quickly spotted what was far beyond Gimli's sight, and she nodded to him, indicating the direction. Gimli afforded her a low bow and walked calmly across the elven king's grounds, as if he had leave to wander them where he would.

**_To be continued…_**

**_Coming next week: _**_One final revelation remains to be delivered by the Ambassador of Lonely Mountain, and at long last, in our final chapter, Gimli returns a beloved token to Legolas even as the house of Thranduil struggles to return a beloved daughter to herself in **Chapter Five: Of A Great Friendship!**_

**PLEASE don't forget to review!!!**


	5. Of a Great Friendship

_**A/N:** Here it is, the final chapter! My thanks to all readers for your criticism and encouragement for this tale! For my Potterverse readers, my next project is to finish _International Magical Co-operation_ before July 21!_

**Chapter Five: Of a Great Friendship**

"Legolas?"

Gimli had expected to find the elf returning to the halls now that his niece was under control, and when he spied the figure kneeling in the dirt of the gray, burnt patch of forest, he was not quite certain that it was his friend. For Legolas was even more filthy than he had been when the tree had fallen on them, and his stance was slumped in a manner that Gimli had never observed in him before.

Nevertheless, at the sound of the dwarf's voice, Legolas looked up and smiled. "Well met again, my friend."

He held out his hand, and Gimli walked over to take it, although it surprised him when the elf did not rise. "Not so much this time, I fear. I am deeply sorry for your family's troubles," Gimli told him.

Legolas closed his eyes and sighed. "You did all you could, Gimli. And I am grateful for the truth you brought, and the generosity of it, given the slight done to you."

"I've endured slights from elves before," he said mildly, and was gratified to see Legolas smile again, albeit sheepishly. "Think no more of me with regard to this incident. In so foul a mess as Lorben wrought, I can claim no pain to be avenged."

"Aye, there are enough thinking on vengeance," Legolas muttered.

"She returned to the halls without any struggle," Gimli said delicately, hoping to cheer him.

Legolas nodded. "She is restored to sense, although I cannot say she is restored to herself. I know not what my father and lord will decide in light of these developments. She is sick in heart and mind, yet she cannot be allowed to command the king's halls in this state." His face was bleak. "Would that I could help her."

"I'm a stranger to these halls but for you, elf, yet I would speak with resolution that you've already been of help." The elf winced at that and looked away. Gimli sighed. He despised knowing that these events that had brought his friend such pain had been brought about by dwarves. Although he knew Legolas held no blame for him for Silivren's shaky sanity and his people's losses, it cast a pall over their plans for friendship between their races. No amends could be made for all the deaths and sorrows that their people had caused each other, he was beginning to fear.

_So many old wounds…_

Still, there was at least one old debt that he could settle. He cleared his throat hesitantly. "Elf, I…I learnt something else when we questioned Lorben."

Legolas looked at him in alarm then. "What?"

"Naught else concerning the battle," Gimli hastened to assure him, and Legolas sighed in relief. _Stupid. _He shook his head at himself. "I know that your path crossed with Lorben's, many years ago."

A heavier sigh was his answer. "Aye, it did. Even as Galithil's crossed with your Sháin's, and Elunen's with…"

"Sothi?"

"Yes, that was the name." Legolas smiled sadly at him. "Fear not, Gimli, I harbor no grudge toward any of your people for the actions of the few—not anymore." He grimaced, as did the dwarf. "And the legacy of that meeting lingers fair in the minds of many, as Galithil's honor of your kinsman's gift should show."

"I am glad a fair gem may remind some of your people of us," said Gimli, kneeling before Legolas. With the elf seated low upon the ground thus, the two of them were, for once, eye to eye. "And another reason I have come here, my friend, is to bestow another gem to its rightful owner."

With that, Gimli removed the ring from his right hand, the black pearl winking darkly in the sunlight that filtered down through the smoky air, and held it out before him.

For a moment, Legolas did not move. Then, slowly, the elf raised his hand and took the ring, staring at it with a look of utter disbelief. His eyes raised from it to Gimli's, seeking, questioning…

"It was my father's gift to me, the day I was chosen to join the Fellowship," Gimli explained, answering the questions that his friend could not seem to find breath to ask. "Before that, it was gifted to my father from Dáin, in tribute for staying behind when so many left Erebor for Moria. The king told him that Naldin had brought it back from the first expedition. Naldin's father told us when we questioned Lorben how the black pearl came to be in their company's possession. I sought at once to return it to you. Had I known its history in Rivendell, however strange we were once to each other, I would have given it over then, without a thought."

The elf still said nothing. His gaze flitted down to the pearl in his hand, then back to Gimli's face, then to the pearl again, emotions more naked in his eyes than Gimli had ever imagined. Then Legolas closed his fist around the gem and pressed it to his forehead, shuddering hard and squeezing his eyes closed. It struck Gimli in a rush of dismay that his friend was weeping. He awkwardly put a hand on the elf's shoulder, and Legolas seized it with his free hand and wept still harder.

_What signified this pearl? _he wondered, but could not bring himself to ask. For he knew that Legolas would not fawn over any trinket, however fair or rare, for its own monetary worth. And it was clear that to the elf, the black pearl had been of great worth indeed. Knowing this sent anger bursting anew through Gimli toward Lorben, imagining Legolas's anguish when the pearl had been taken from him.

All at once, Legolas looked up, and through his tears attempted to offer the ring back to Gimli. "You need not make this as amends, Gimli. I would have you keep it—"

"Never," the dwarf snapped, and forced Legolas's fist closed around the ring and its treasure. "I'll hear none of it, elf. You'd not care for any bauble as you do for this, and one day I'll demand to know its story from you. But you were parted from it in dishonor by a dwarf, and no dwarf can ever wear it with honor."

No longer weeping, but his eyes still full, Legolas gave a soft laugh. "Oh, you are wrong in that, Gimli, son of Glóin. Entirely wrong. I fear it will be some time before I can speak its tale to you, but be assured, there would be no greater honor than for you to wear it." But he opened his fist and looked at it again, and Gimli firmly pushed his hand away.

"You would honor me more by accepting it, in that case. If not as proper recompense, then as a gift befitting our friendship."

Then to his surprised consternation, Gimli found himself seized by the elf in an embrace as fierce as any that the dwarf might share with one of his own kin. He hesitated, but then returned it, and found himself not as discomfited as he'd expected.

"Come, elf, what would your kin say if they saw you like this?"

Legolas laughed, but pulled away, wiping his eyes and only succeeding in smudging his dirty face. "My kin have seen me worse, dwarf." He opened his hand and looked at the pearl ring again, a look of wonder and wistful sorrow on his face. "I must tell you the story you ask for," he murmured. "And soon."

"Hold your peace if you wish. We've plenty of time," Gimli pointed out.

The elf eyed him. "To hear such words from a dwarf!"

"Bah!"

But that old merriment was back in Legolas's eyes, and Gimli was too glad of it to be truly offended. Legolas went on, "I have told you before that you begin to sound like an elf!"

"And I'll certainly not bother cheering you up again, in that case!" Gimli retorted, but he could muster no gruffness to it. "After enough time with me, elf, you may find a liking for caves!"

The dubious look he got in return set them both laughing. But then Legolas turned serious, "I may rightly doubt that, my friend. Yet I fear I have thoughts just now that may be better suited for mortals." He looked down at the pearl ring in his hand, and Gimli saw the shadow of many sorrows and memories in his eyes, despite the soft smile.

"Oh?"

The elf nodded. Gimli met his gaze, and Legolas smiled, serene again. In fact, it seemed to Gimli that his friend was now serene as he had not been since the earliest months when the Fellowship had begun to recognize the extent of Middle Earth's peril. Legolas explained, "I remind myself to honor every moment of every day I have in your company. As is fitting for the company of all great friends."

* * *

_Two days later…_

A company of Eryn Lasgalen's guards had assembled at the bridge at dawn, to escort Silivren, daughter of Berensul, and the Crown Prince and Princess of the realm from the wood, across the Misty Mountains to Imladris.

"Are you and Faron not returning to Imladris?" Legolas asked Galithil as he noted his friends' failure to join the group.

"In time, we shall return," Galithil said quietly, her eyes on the travelers. "But we thought it unwise to go with this party." Legolas sighed, knowing her reasoning and admitting it wise. "And after all our home has suffered, I wished to join in its defense until the kingdom is healed."

Legolas smiled and gripped her shoulder. "The kingdom is glad of your defense, kinswoman. I know the depth of your loyalty." Galithil smiled sadly as Faron took her free hand. Then she hastily stepped back and nodded to him. "My lord."

Turning toward the bridge, Legolas found the elven king joining them and bowed. "Father. Is all well?"

Thranduil nodded, and they stepped away from the others. "She comes directly with her parents. They will stay with her at least initially."

The day after the disastrous audience, the elven king had again addressed his granddaughter, but this time alone, in his study. Berensul and Eirien had been called to join them after a time, but Legolas knew naught of what had transpired. "There was no declaration made," he said delicately, half-hoping, half-fearing to hear Thranduil's decision.

"There shall be none," his father replied, watching the doors of the halls. None but those skilled at observing his moods would guess at Thranduil's sorrow. "She is ill enough; I dare not add to it the humiliation of publicly stripping her of rank."

Legolas was somewhat relieved, but knew that Silivren's conduct would not have gone entirely unpunished, so he waited for the king to continue.

"She will return from Imladris when Lord Elrond deems her ready and not before." Thranduil's mouth twisted slightly. "Its effect shall be the same: for that time, however long, she will have no authority in my halls. She goes to Elrond as a pupil."

"How long might she be gone?"

"I know not. Months. Years, perhaps. Until she is restored to herself. At that time, when she returns, I will determine whether she is fit to resume her position in the household."

Legolas nodded, feeling an ache within for all that had transpired. He noticed Gimli further along the riverbank, now speaking with Galithil and Faron, and one of the other warrior captains, Elunen. Elunen, one of the oldest warrioresses in Eryn Lasgalen, had been among the war company when they encountered dwarves in the Misty Mountains so many years before. Legolas recalled that she too had made a dwarf friend. No doubt she and Gimli were speaking of it. He fingered the silver chain now hanging around his neck.

Thranduil had also noticed the dwarf. "You might do well to tell your…friend to remain away for a short time." He gestured to the doors, from which Silivren was expected.

"He knows," said Legolas. "Galithil and Gimli will not be near."

The dwarf and the elf warrioress were true to the promise, and presently, Galithil glanced at the doors and spoke to Gimli. The dwarf nodded, and the small group went briskly down the riverbank until they were no longer within easy sight of the bridge and the departing elves.

The doors to the elven king's halls opened, and Berensul and Eirien came, with their daughter Silivren between them. Legolas watched her approach with great sorrow; she was calm and composed again, but there was no mistaking the shadow that hung over the elf maid. He stayed where he was as his brother's family made their formal farewells to Thranduil, then went to his niece's side as Silivren readied her horse.

Silivren stared at him for a moment, but said nothing, fidgeting with the horse's light pack. Legolas touched her face. "Your people will always look for your return, Silivren of Eryn Lasgalen."

She did not pull away, but the coldness in her eyes pained him as greatly as any wound he had ever suffered in battle. No longer meeting his eyes, she remarked, "I suppose the dwarf remains even as I am cast forth."

"Sili…" he whispered, unable to keep the plea from his voice. "You are not cast forth, nor shall you ever be. I shall look for your return as well."

"I saw your face when he came here again," his niece murmured, staring fixedly at her mount's back. "Your love is given to him as to any of your own people."

He seized her chin and forced her to face him, careful to shield onlookers from view with his back. The bitterness in her eyes was clear, but also the pain. He knew it was the latter that she wished to hide. Without allowing her to turn away again, he whispered fiercely, "My love for you, Niece, is without condition, and there is no fault you can commit that will have you named as anything but beloved in our family. Never forget that."

Her eyes suddenly brimmed, and she pulled away, leaning against the horse. He stroked her hair as she said shakily, "He did not disgrace me as I thought he would. But I do not want to go."

"I fear we have not the skills to heal what ails you," Legolas replied. "But you will not be alone in Imladris. It is your mother's home, after all, and remains a fair land. You will recover better there." She looked at him again, and he added, "We wish nothing for you but recovery."

"Can there be such a thing?" she whispered.

He took both of her hands. "There can be. That I promise you."

"Silivren. Legolas." Berensul looked back at them as he and Eirien mounted. "It is time."

Legolas kissed Silivren upon her brow, then embraced her tightly. "Remember that you remain beloved," he whispered.

She nodded, eyes downcast, and he assisted her onto her horse, although she had not needed such assistance in many years. But he had once done it often when she first learned to ride. She looked down at him then, and it seemed to him—perhaps just a product of imagination and hope—that some of the dark emotion had lifted from her. In time, perhaps, the sorrow and pain too would be gone again.

The elven king came back to them as Legolas bade farewell to his brother and sister in law, and Thranduil took Silivren's hand and kissed it. "Return to us ere long, Granddaughter. For the hearts of all shall call you back home."

With that, the elven king and Legolas stepped aside as the company rode through the burnt forest. Silivren looked back at them for some long moments, as they could see her clearly in the absence of the forest's growth. And yet, Legolas noticed that the ash and smoke had finally cleared, and although the stumps remained black and the ground scarred, the sun now reached the forest floor as it had not done for many years.

Thranduil remained at his youngest son's side until Silivren and her company had disappeared from their sight. As the other elves around them returned to their regular duties, Legolas sighed and closed his eyes. "I am glad of your mercy for her."

"My aim is to heal our people always, surely you know that." The elven king frowned at him. "In sending her to Imladris, it was necessary to confess that I know not what to do for her pain. Nor could we have her here in her state if you are determined to have a dwarven friend as a guest."

Legolas looked sharply at him. "These events were no fault of Gimli's in any fashion, my lord. He has been beyond the dictates honor and generosity, these past days. Our shared pains were no crime of his." Even as he spoke, he could see Galithil and Gimli returning from the river, obviously having been given the all-clear. Just the sight of the dwarf gladdened his weary heart. "I would have peace between my friends and my kindred."

But Thranduil frowned still more. "Yet your kindred have need of you now, Legolas. With the War ended, will you continue to give your efforts to men and to dwarves when here remain those who are not strangers?"

Legolas sighed, but smiled, fingering the chain at his neck again as Gimli approached. "You still mistake the matter, sire. The ones with whom I have fought and struggled have long not been strangers." He gave Thranduil a sly glance. "Nor shall he ever again be a guest in these halls."

Thranduil stiffened, but dared not respond as Gimli and Galithil reached them. Gimli gestured imperiously at Legolas's neck. "What've you done with it?"

Legolas grinned and pulled the chain free of his collar to show the ring where it hung. Galithil and Faron both gasped as they recognized the pearl, but Gimli huffed. "Granted it's too big for those elf fingers of yours, but dwarves can alter the size of a ring easily enough! Let me fit it to you!"

Pulling it back, Legolas firmly shook his head. "That you shall not, Gimli son of Glóin; it shall stay just as it was when it was given to you. Always." He smiled at Galithil and at Faron, whose eyes were full. "It has long been a token of many great friendships, and shall continue to be so forever. That I refuse to change it is but another token of the honor in which I shall always hold you…_elvellon_"

All activity in the vicinity ceased. Behind them, King Thranduil actually made a strangled noise, while Faron and Galithil first gaped, then smiled broadly.

Gimli stared at Legolas, having spent enough time among elves and elf-raised Rangers to be aware of the word's meaning. Lowering his voice, he took a step forward and muttered, "What did you say?"

Legolas did not lower his voice; he made certain that those about them could hear. This act needed only one witness, but Legolas meant to make certain that as many of his kin as possible would be so. "I said that I honor you. I said that you are elf-friend, and shall remain thus honored by all my people. And by myself above all." He knelt before the thunderstruck dwarf and smiled. "You have honored me with your faith and friendship in battle and in peace, Gimli, son of Glóin. You have honored the Lady Galadriel in word and deed to all, as well I know. Long have you been deserving to be named _elvellon_, and thus now at my word, you are Always shall be your right to travel in our lands and enter our halls. And none may ever take that right from you again."

Blinking rapidly, Gimli gripped the elf's shoulder without a word. From the edges of his vision, Legolas could see Galithil and Faron joining hands, with Elunen nodding beside them. He could sense his father's utter disbelief (and dismay) behind them, but cared little for it. Among his kindred, he detected frowns, confusion, even laughter, but also many smiles. In fact, far more smiles than he had expected.

Perhaps the future acceptance for this _elvellon_would not be so difficult to obtain after all.

At length, Gimli spoke. "I'm no prince, Elf. But I am ambassador of the dwarves of Lonely Mountain and lord of the Glittering Caves, and as long as I hold those positions, you'll be welcome. I promise you that. Whenever you wish to come."

Sensing the implicit question, Legolas replied, "I should be very happy to go back with you to Erebor, Gimli."

The dwarf grinned. "Hope my people's hospitality can measure up to yours." Legolas almost winced, then realized Gimli was looking at Galithil. "You'll journey with me now, then?"

"Aye." Legolas straightened and dared a glance over his shoulder at his father, who by then looked utterly resigned. "We can ride, or walk if it pleases you."

"You, volunteering to decline a horse?" Gimli exclaimed.

Legolas laughed. "I am well-aware that it is yet a short journey on foot, and perhaps the extra time will be of use. After all, there remains still a fine tale that I have promised to tell you."

**Fin**

**_Final Author's Note:_**_ For those curious about the timeline, this story takes place in autumn after the end of the War of the Ring, Year 3019 of the Third Age (1419 Shire Reckoning.) My fic, _Elven Song_, takes place in late 3020 to early 3021, after Frodo has resigned office of Mayor but before he leaves Middle Earth. Silivren was allowed to return to Eryn Lasgalen shortly before the events of _Elven Song_, so she was in Imladris under Elrond's care for about a year. (Recall that Elrond arrives in Gondor near the end of _Elven Song._) As for what happened when she got home and learned what had happened to her uncle in Gondor, well…that is fodder for another story!_


End file.
